


My trust in your hands

by BlushLouise



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bluestreak is learning, Budding Relationship, Caning, Collars, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Has Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Feeding, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Peace, Rebuilding on Cybertron, Safeword Use, Sensation Play, Sensory Deprivation, Sort Of, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Wing Kink, healing together, trainee dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-31 04:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17842166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: “I think you and I could be good for each other. If you’re willing to give us a chance.”Bluestreak leans closer despite himself. “What’s on your mind?”Skywarp just looks at him for a moment. Then he reaches out, touching the back of Bluestreak’s hand. “We’re both strong, just differently. We can lean on each other.”“I don’t know how.” The words are almost dragged from him. “I don’t know how to trust you.”“There’s… something we can try.” Skywarp sounds nervous again, and he’s looking down at where his finger’s drawing circles on the back of Bluestreak’s hand. “A way of being together. That’ll give you the control you need to learn to trust me. If I find someone to show us, will you try? Please?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to fuzipenguin for helping me out with the bdsm aspects of this fic!
> 
> This is technically a stand-alone side story to "You had me at Cybertron" and references a few things from that and its prequel. You don't have to read those to understand this. The main points that are referenced are that there's peace between the factions, they're rebuilding Cybertron, and Starscream's suffered major psychological trauma. There's also namedropping of the other story's oc.

The first time they meet, it’s at the club.

Club is a really fancy word for it, Bluestreak thinks. Sure, it’s a large room, there’s music – courtesy of Blaster – and there’s dancing, and the strobing, colored lights make everyone look slightly insane. But it’s still just a warehouse on the edge of the residential area, where they can party all night long without disturbing anyone.

It’s a bit too loud for him. He’s had to turn the sensitivity of his doorwings down almost to a minimum. But Blaster and Arcee wanted him to come, so he did.

He hadn’t planned to stay for long. He certainly hadn’t planned to be staring the way he is.

Skywarp is on the dance floor. And he _owns_ it.

It’s enough to have Bluestreak’s temperature rising. The seeker is gorgeous, all grace and long, strong limbs, wings fluttering behind him. Bluestreak _aches_ to touch. He’s also fighting the impulse to duck and hide.

He’s definitely not prepared for Skywarp to spin around and stare back at him, an intriguing smirk on his face.

And then the seeker saunters over to him, stopping so far into Bluestreak’s personal space that the sniper has to plaster himself against the wall to avoid him.

“Hey, pretty,” Skywarp croons. “See anything you like?”

Bluestreak is well known to never be short for words. But now he can’t find a single one.

“I’ve watched you before,” the seeker continues, still in that soft, seductive tone. “You’re the one who always shot us out of the sky.” He grins. “It’s so slagging hot, how you always hit your target like that. Tell me,” and his voice drops into a growling purr, making Bluestreak’s fans kick in, “are you that good at everything you do?” One dark finger runs down Bluestreak’s chest.

“I’ve got to go!” he squeaks, finally giving in to the urge to flee. He pushes sideways and darts away from Skywarp’s questing fingers.

His fans are still on, and he pauses in the doorway to dart a glance back at the dark seeker. Skywarp is still staring at him. Just that is enough to kick his fans up another notch.

Despite that, it’s not very hard to leave.

 

The second time they meet, it’s much the same and not similar at all.

It’s not the club, not this time. It’s the open square, between the new building that houses the ruling council and the large swathe of open land that’s meant to become a park. Bluestreak is there with Blaster, heading to lunch with Prowl and Jazz, while Skywarp…

Skywarp is pleading with Ratchet. Ratchet, who’s been stuck in the new hospital almost since they got back to Cybertron, and has only recently been able to come out and whack the ruling councilors’ respective helms with angrily edited drafts of medical legislation.

They’re close enough to hear what Skywarp is saying, for all that Bluestreak doesn’t want to.

“… help him,” the dark seeker begs. “Please, Ratchet. Anything. He’s not even fueling properly anymore, we have to sneak the energon into him. He doesn’t recognize us.”

“There’s nothing I can do for his mind,” Ratchet replies, far more patiently than Bluestreak had expected. “If we had a qualified psychologist… There’s nothing physically wrong with him, Skywarp. But if it helps…” He sighs heavily. “If it helps, I’ll come out and sedate him, get an energon line into him. And the offer of stasis still stands, if you and Thundercracker decide that’s better.”

Skywarp is shaking his head. He looks dejected, and part of Bluestreak feels sorry for the handsome mech.

Another part of him, a fierce, vindictive part, wants him to suffer. Him and Thundercracker and Starscream. All of them.

That part’s small, though. And at war with the part that just can’t stop looking.

“No, not stasis,” Skywarp sighs. “He can’t heal if he’s in stasis. And it’s not what Star would have wanted, either.” He reaches out to touch Ratchet’s arm. “Thanks anyway, Ratchet.”

The medic nods and begins to walk away, and Skywarp turns towards the council building.

His optics brighten when he spots Bluestreak.

“Hey, Bluestreak. Blaster.” He nods politely at them. “Out for a walk?”

“Yes, we’re meeting Prowl, and we’re late, so we’ve got to go,” Bluestreak says, for once using his ceaseless blabber intentionally. He tugs at Blaster until the other mech follows, though not without looking strangely at him.

Skywarp looks upset for a moment. Then he sighs and walks away.

 

And so it continues. It’s not like they run into each other on purpose. And Bluestreak is fairly sure that Skywarp isn’t stalking him. The population is just so small, and they move in such similar circles, that they can’t not bump into each other from time to time.

And every time, Skywarp tries to talk to him. Smiles. Looks crestfallen or dejected when Bluestreak brushes him off.

And still, for all that, Bluestreak can’t not stare at him.

He finds himself mesmerized by the way those wings move. By the way Skywarp smiles, as if he’s in on a joke that no one else seems to get. By his hands, and the lines of his shoulders.

Pit, he can’t _not_ stare. Even though he knows that Skywarp would probably give up on him if Bluestreak wasn’t ogling him every time they ran into each other.

Bluestreak tries to tell himself that it’s just his frame playing tricks on him. Just a physical admiration.

He refuses to admit, even to himself, that he’s attracted to the seeker. There’s just no way he can be attracted to him and scared of him at the same time.

 

His friends notice, of course. Blaster’s been by Bluestreak’s side through enough Skywarp encounters by now to know what’s going on. As for the other two… Bluestreak has still not perfected the art of hiding something from Prowl, and hiding something from Jazz just makes the mech see it as a challenge.

So it’s no wonder that one of their evenings together turn into an intervention, really.

“I don’t understand why you’re being like that, Blue,” Blaster says. “I mean, you can’t keep your optics off him, but whenever he talks to you, you snub him.”

“It’s nothing.” Bluestreak protests, though he does know it won’t do any good. “He’s a bother.”

“But ya’s the one starin’ at him,” Jazz points out. “That ain’t him bein’ a bother, Blue, that’s you bein’ one.”

Bluestreak grumbles, but Prowl’s sharp optics don’t let him get away with it.

“Bluestreak.” The voice is quiet, but firm. “What is going on?”

“I said it’s nothing.”

Blaster touches his chin, tilts his face up. “It ain’t nothing, Blue. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Pit, if that was me who got looked at like that by someone as hot as him, we’d have hit the berth ages ago. So why do you insist on treating him like he’s got cosmic rust?”

Bluestreak pulls away from the familiar touch. He stands up and begins pacing. “Sure he’s hot. He’s hot as all slag, really, I mean, those wings are to die for, and the way he looks at me, I just melt, but don’t you see?” He spins back, facing them, staring at them and willing them to understand. “He’s a _seeker_.”

They stare back at him for a moment. Then Prowl’s optics brighten in realization. “And you blame the seekers for Praxus.”

“Of course I do, it’s their fault.” Bluestreak dumps back into his chair heavily. “I still can’t look at him without remembering the screaming.” He looks up, meets Jazz’s optics. “Is it even possible to like someone and hate them at the same time?”

Jazz reaches for him, puts a hand on his arm. “Bluestreak. I love ya, so I’m only goin’ t’ say this once.” He pats Bluestreak’s arm comfortingly. “Praxus was a tragedy. It sucked slag. Big time. It was unforgivable. And it’s time you got over it.” He leans back, meets Prowl’s heavy stare with a shrug. “I mean it. Ya’s lettin’ it ruin your future now, Blue. For all that Skywarp chose the wrong side in the war, he’s a good mech. An’ he genuinely likes you.”

“And you like him. No, Blue, don’t give me that face.” Blaster bops his nose. “You know it. We know it. Pit, even Skywarp knows it, which makes this all the more sucky, to be honest.”

Prowl just looks at him. That’s all he really needs to do.

“Fine,” Bluestreak sighs, caving gracelessly. “Fine, I won’t snub him next time I see him. I’ll try to forget what his kind did. But it’s not going to go well.”

 

It doesn’t.

Well, it does at first. Bluestreak spots Skywarp at the club again, and like always, he can’t look away. The seeker’s just too gorgeous.

And, true to form, when Skywarp spots Bluestreak he stops dancing and walks over.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Bluestreak has to stop himself from biting his lip.

Skywarp stops in surprise. Then the most beautiful smile appears on his face. “Wow. Hi. You’re talking to me today?”

Bluestreak ducks his head. It’s easier when he looks away. “I am. Someone told me I’ve been treating you unfairly.”

Skywarp chuckles. “Well, I have been wondering, I have to admit. You’ve been the textbook definition of hot and cold.” He pauses, steps closer. “Hey, do you want to get out of here? Go for a walk or something? It’ll be easier to talk.”

Bluestreak manages a nod. “I would like that.”

 

Surprisingly enough, the conversation flows easily. They walk around much of what’s been built so far, sometimes venturing out into the half-constructed areas. Skywarp is funny, easy-going, everything Bluestreak was hoping he’d be.

But Bluestreak is so on edge he has to focus just to keep the conversation going.

The rational part of him knows it’s got to do with the dark, and the buildings that still look broken, the debris that crumbles underfoot wherever construction isn’t finished. It’s all too familiar, even though this is new.

And when they turn a corner and the reflected light strikes their backs, throwing Skywarp’s shadow into sharp relief on the ground, Bluestreak can’t stop himself from freezing. His wartime protocols activate, prompting him to reach for a rifle that isn’t there, to hiss at the enemy walking next to him.

“Hey, whoa!” Skywarp backs away a few steps, arms up. “What’s eating you?”

Bluestreak doesn’t reply. He doesn’t see Skywarp, pretty, funny Skywarp with a smile that weakens his knees and a frame to die for. He sees a seeker menace, one of those who murdered his entire family, his entire city, and he hates him for it.

He doesn’t realize he’s pulled his knife from subspace until he brandishes it at the other mech. “Get away from me, seeker.”

Skywarp just stares dumbly at him. “Huh?”

“You heard me. Get away. You destroyed my city. I’ll hurt you if I have to.” He’s focused, eerily focused, and Skywarp is just a shadow in front of his scope. Like he’s been so many times before.

Skywarp flinches, taking a step backwards. “I – you – but we were having fun! Weren’t we?”

Bluestreak hisses at him.

“… fine.” Skywarp sighs. “I don’t know where this came from, but I’ll leave you. For now.” He lifts off, transforms, and then he’s gone.

Bluestreak is left on the street, alone and shivering.

 

It is a few days before he sees Skywarp again. The seeker is back at the square, talking to Perceptor this time, when he spots Bluestreak.

It’s too late to dodge him. Not that that had been the plan. Not that Bluestreak had had a plan at all.

Skywarp nods at Perceptor. When the scientist walks away, he takes a step towards Bluestreak.

“Hi.”

He bites his lip. “Hey.”

“So that was weird,” Skywarp says, as if it was three minutes ago that they separated and not the better part of a week. “Care to tell me what that was all about?”

Bluestreak fought he urge to sigh. He knew he owed the seeker an explanation. Jazz, Prowl, even Blaster had hammered that into him. He just… didn’t know where to start.

“Not here,” he said finally, looking around at the mecha crossing the square. “Walk with me?”

“You gonna freak out again?” Skywarp’s voice is a strange mix of challenging and hesitant.

“I’ll try not to?” Bluestreak answers honestly. He looks around. “We can sit on that bench over there. Will that work?” The bench in question is out of the way, tucked against the wall of one of the buildings scheduled for demolition.

“Sure.” Skywarp shrugs. “’S as good as anywhere else.”

Bluestreak sits down, and hesitates. He needs to be the one to patch this up, but slag if he knows how.

Skywarp seems to know, though. “So, you have issues, huh.”

“Who doesn’t, at this point,” Bluestreak sighs. “But yeah. I do. I have Praxus issues.”

Such a dumb way to sum it up. But it seems to say all it needs to.

“Ah.”

By comparison, that says absolutely nothing.

Bluestreak in-vents. Remember the advice given to him by numerous friends and superior officers and one small psychologist on a distant planet. _Don’t let it fester, Bluestreak. Talking helps_. “I can’t quite separate you, the mech, from you, your frametype,” he admits. “It makes things… difficult. And triggered what happened.”

Skywarp nods. He seems hesitant, for some reason. Almost nervous. “Yeah. I guess I get that.” He glances at Bluestreak, looks away. “Is that something you’d want to work past?”

“Could you work past something like that?” Bluestreak spits, suddenly angry.

“Hey, I lost my city too,” Skywarp shoots back defensively. “Not in the same way, maybe, but Vos was taken too.”

“Yeah? Well, forgive me for not being too upset,” Bluestreak snaps, and immediately regrets it.

Skywarp flinches. He turns away, turning his back to Bluestreak. Turns his head to talk at him over his shoulder. "You're mad. I get it.”

“Of course I’m slagging mad,” Bluestreak sighs. “What did you expect? It’s no secret, what happened to me when Praxus fell.”

“Yeah, no, I expected you to be a bit mad,” Skywarp agrees, still looking away. “Maybe not at me directly, but yeah. You’re damaged goods. We all are.”

“Yeah?” Bluestreak scoffs. “Not like me.”

“Huh.” Skywarp snorts. “Try this on for size. You have nightmares. You retreat into your own mind, hide behind that wall of noise of yours. You feel like the only time you have a measure of control is when the world narrows down to the target in your scope and the orders in your audial.”

Bluestreak turns and stares at him. That was way too eerily accurate. “How… How do you know?”

“Because I feel like that too,” Skywarp replies simply. “I teleport everywhere for a reason, and it’s not because it’s faster. When my processor’s busy calculating jumps, I don’t hear the screams.” He turns back to face Bluestreak. “I think you and I could be good for each other. If you’re willing to give us a chance.”

Bluestreak leans closer despite himself. “What’s on your mind?”

Skywarp just looks at him for a moment. Then he reaches out, touching the back of Bluestreak’s hand. “We’re both strong, just differently. We can lean on each other.”

“I don’t know how.” The words are almost dragged from him. “I don’t know how to trust you.”

“There’s… something we can try.” Skywarp sounds nervous again, and he’s looking down at where his finger’s drawing circles on the back of Bluestreak’s hand. “A way of being together. That’ll give you the control you need to learn to trust me. If I find someone to show us, will you try? Please?”

Bluestreak, to his own surprise, raises his free hand – the one not currently half-hidden by dark fingers - to carefully touch Skywarp’s cheek. He doesn’t know why, just that it feels wrong to see the seeker so unsure. He wants that smile back.

“I’ll try,” he promises, though he’s nervous as all pit.

But Skywarp’s optics gazing back at him are hesitant and hopeful, and Bluestreak tries to ignore how right this feels. How much he _wants_.

“I’ll try,” he repeats. “If you want to.”

The smile he gets in return is enough to melt him into a puddle.

Primus, what has he gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter 2

Bluestreak is nervous. He doesn’t know why, really – it’s just Skywarp. Well, Skywarp and Blast Off and this whole thing they’re doing and what the frag is he doing, he doesn’t know how to do this and –

Well. Maybe he does know why he’s nervous.

“You should stop pacing,” Blaster says, infuriatingly calm. “At this rate you’ll wear yourself out before they even get here.”

“I know.” Bluestreak sighs, dumping down on the couch next to Blaster. He rests his head against the red mech’s shoulder. “Thanks again for letting me use your apartment for this. For being here. You know I don’t trust them.”

Blaster shrugs, nearly dislodging Bluestreak. “’Course. Whatever you need, Blue. Besides,” and now he’s smirking, “maybe I can pick up a thing or two for myself as well.”

“You saying you’re looking to spice things up a bit?” Bluestreak teases, one finger tracing one of the more sensitive seams on Blaster’s frame. “You and Arcee ready to experiment?”

Blaster laughs. “Oh, you know, can’t hurt with a few extra tricks in my subspace.”

Bluestreak grins and cuddles a bit closer. Blaster’s presence is relaxing, as usual. It’s one of the reasons he wanted to do this here. Not just to have Blaster’s company, to have him there as a silent support, but to be here, in his apartment. Bluestreak already feels safe here.

The quiet moment is interrupted by the door chime, and all of Bluestreak’s nerves come crashing back. He makes a conscious effort to still his doorwings as he goes to let them in.

“Hey.” Skywarp’s smile is roguish, hellishly attractive, like usual, and he doesn’t seem nervous at all. By contrast, Bluestreak feels like he should be trembling.

“Hey. Come on in. Hi, Blast Off.”

The massive shuttle-former has to duck to clear the doorway, but thankfully he fits in the room easily enough. “Hello, Bluestreak. Hello, Blaster.” Blast Off’s tone is pleasant, and he looks curious and friendly, which is not a look Bluestreak is used to seeing on a Decepticon.

Maybe it’s one he should get used to seeing, though.

It’s weird how expressive Blast Off is without his blast mask. There’s something about his mouth that reminds Bluestreak of Mirage, though he can’t say exactly what it is.

“Don’t mind me,” Blaster replies. He retreats to the doorway to one of the other rooms and leans against the doorjamb casually. “I’m just here as a silent observer.”

“Fair enough.” Blast Off turns towards Bluestreak then, still with that casually polite look on his face. “Should we begin?”

Bluestreak moves closer. “I guess. I have to admit, I don’t know exactly what it is we’re doing.”

Blast Off frowns at that, his lips puckering slightly. “Skywarp, how much have you told him?”

The seeker shrugs. “That this would be a way for him to feel in control, so we could learn to be comfortable.”

“Skywarp.” Blast Off sighs and drags a hand down his face. Bluestreak has to hide a smile – he gets the feeling this is a common response when dealing with this particular seeker. “That is not enough information. Bluestreak, come here.” He sits down on the sturdy padded bench that Blaster had borrowed from Skyfire specifically for this. Bluestreak makes a mental note to thank Blaster again later.

Skywarp sits down on the floor with a grin. Hesitantly, Bluestreak pulls a chair closer. Blast Off, Skywarp and him now sit in a loose triangle formation, with Blaster at Skywarp’s back.

“What Skywarp wants to suggest to you, what he and I have been doing together, is a form of dominant/submissive play,” Blast Off begins. “It is a way for both of us to act upon our needs in a safe environment. Skywarp is the submissive, and I am the dominant. That means, in the most simplistic terms, that he gives me control over his frame, I take charge of our play, and he must follow my orders for the duration.”

Bluestreak’s optics brighten. “Really?” His optics fall on Skywarp, now on his knees on the floor. “And this is what you thought would benefit us?”

“I do think it’ll help,” Skywarp agrees. “You’ll get it once you know it a bit better.”

He frowns. “I don’t understand how me giving you orders is going to help any.”

“It’s not necessarily about the orders,” Blast Off says. “It’s about getting your needs met, as I said.” He glances down at Skywarp, a frown marring his elegant features. “Maybe a demonstration would be helpful? To help you understand?” He apparently catches the questioning and slightly appalled look on Blaster’s face and shoots him a smile. “Don’t worry. We’re only doing this if you all agree, and we’re not going to do anything any of you are uncomfortable with. Whether you’re an active participant or not.”

“I must admit, I half thought you were going to be interfacing in my livin’ room,” Blaster says dryly. “Not something I necessarily wanted to see.”

“Not something you will see,” Blast Off says firmly. He turns to Bluestreak and gives a light chuckle. “You look terrified. Relax. Unless you don’t want us to do this? You can say no at any time, you know. It’s one of the key elements of this type of play – you’re doing this because you want to, and the moment you don’t, we stop.”

Bluestreak in-vents, trying to calm himself down. “No interfacing?”

“No.” Blast Off shakes his head. “This isn’t about interfacing. Not unless you want it to be. Interfacing can be a part of it, but it doesn’t have to be.”

“Then what is it about?” Bluestreak almost whispers. He really doesn’t know what to expect now.

“We’ll show you. If you’re alright with that?” He waits for Bluestreak and Blaster to both nod their agreement before looking down at Skywarp again. “Then we’ll get started. Skywarp, get ready.”

Skywarp grins and turns a bit, so he’s seated directly in front of Blast Off. He dims his optics, and gradually he relaxes. The wings that had been vibrating slow down and still completely, his hands drop into his lap, his shoulders loosen. When his optics power back up he looks focused and calm. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” Blast Off’s voice is soft, and though the words are directed at Bluestreak the tone is very clearly meant for Skywarp. “Now. The play is about getting your needs met. Your need for control, Bluestreak, and Skywarp’s need for surrender.” He reaches out and pets the seekers helm. Skywarp purrs softly. “It’s about care. Affection. Trust. Trust maybe most of all.”

Bluestreak leans forward, intrigued. “Show me.”

The hand petting Skywarp’s helm moves to caress his shoulder vents. The seeker leans into the touch. “Sometimes, we do interface,” Blast Off says softly. “Sometimes, I tie him up and tease the overloads out of him. But sometimes, he simply gives me a massage. Or a polish.” He glances at Bluestreak. “He is very good with wings, I’m told.”

Bluestreak shudders. “I don’t trust him at my back yet.”

“Fair enough.” The hand glides in under Skywarp’s chin, tugging slightly to encourage him to come closer. “Sometimes, we detail each other. Or he cleans my alt mode interior. There are many things we can do without touching on interfacing.”

“I don’t understand what’s in it for him,” Bluestreak confesses. “He takes pleasure from that?”

“Skywarp?” Blast Off prompts. “Do you want to explain to Bluestreak?”

“Yes, sir.” Skywarp’s voice is meek, and Bluestreak stares at him in shock as he continues. He sounds – really different. “When master is in control, I can relax. I can be in this moment, in this second, and I’m grounded in what he wants of me. I don’t have to think about anything else. He shuts the memories up.” He rubs his chin against Blast Off’s hand. “It’s soothing. And very pleasurable, when we get up to that kind of thing.”

“Let me show you. I brought some tools.” Blast Off reaches into his subspace, pulls out a small box. “Skywarp, you know what to do with this.”

The seeker smiles as he accepts. “Yes, master.”

Inside the box, there are cleaning supplies. Bluestreak can’t quite hide his surprise.

Blast Off notices, and he smirks. “Don’t worry. All the toys are in the other box. Leashes. Lashes. Bonds and cuffs. Small, smooth toys that magnetize to the inside of a port cover and stay there, vibrating and teasing. If you want to, I’ll tell you who to talk to so you can get your own set.”

Bluestreak feels like he swallowed his glossa. “Maybe another time,” he manages.

The thought of Skywarp in _chains_. Holy Primus. Leashed and bound back, delicate chain crisscrossing his wings, completely at Bluestreak’s mercy –

He has to force his cooling fans not to start up.

Holy _Primus_.

Skywarp seems oblivious to Bluestreak’s sudden distraction. He’s got one of Blast Off’s pedes in his lap and is gently rubbing a cloth across the plating.

Blast Off leans against the wall with a sigh. “He’s really very good with his hands.”

“What if you tell him to do something he doesn’t want to do?” Bluestreak asks curiously, distracted despite himself.

“He has a safeword. If he uses that, all play ends instantly. It’s part of our agreement.” Blast Off looks down at the seeker, a soft expression on his face. “In a way, he has all the power here. He gives me the control willingly, but he can just as easily take it away. I’m only allowed to have him serve me because he wants to do it.”

“What is the safeword?”

“Skywarp, tell Bluestreak what our safeword is.”

“Buzzard, sir.” Skywarp looks up, gives Bluestreak a small smile. “I haven’t had to use it yet.”

“You can agree on your own safeword, of course,” Blast Off says, pulling one pede back and giving Skywarp access to the other. “It can be anything you’re not likely to say in the heat of the moment. I had a submissive once whose safeword was ‘Autobot’.” He winks at Bluestreak.

Bluestreak looks down at Skywarp’s hands. He’s gentle, thorough, and though Bluestreak still doesn’t understand how this could be pleasurable to the seeker, he _wants_.

His vocalizer’s acting up, and he has to reboot it before he can say anything. At least he manages without static. “Can I try?”

“Certainly. Thank you, Skywarp. We’ll leave it at that so you and Bluestreak can get acquainted.” Blast Off caresses Skywarp’s helm again as he stands. He walks around them to stand off to the side, still watching. “First, agree on a safeword, and which actions are not acceptable.”

“You pick a safeword,” Bluestreak says. He still can’t quite believe he’s doing this. “Not acceptable actions… No interfacing. Yet. Don’t stand behind me when I’m seated. Announce where you are and what you’re doing at all times.” He reboots his vocalizer again. “Yours?”

“No pain. Yet. I don’t trust you enough for that. No lashes or bondage. Yet. If this works, we’ll get there.” He smiles slightly. “Interfacing, yeah, when you feel ready. No forcing.”

“No. No, definitely no forcing,” Blast Off reiterates sternly. “That’s not a part of this unless you roleplay it, and take my advice – you two really shouldn’t do that.”

“Safeword,” Bluestreak whispers. He reaches out, hesitantly, letting one finger glide across Skywarp’s cheek. “Also, what we call each other.”

“Nothing derogatory,” Skywarp says, equally quiet. His optics are dim, and he’s leaning into Bluestreak’s touch. “Don’t call me slave, servant, bitch, anything like that. Call me…” He smiles slightly. “Call me ‘pet’. Can I call you sir?”

“Sir,” Bluestreak agrees. “Not ‘master’.”

“Great. And the safeword…” He turns his head slightly, pressing a quick kiss to Bluestreak’s plan. “The safeword is ‘planet’.”

Bluestreak takes a steadying in-vent and looks at Blast Off. When the shuttle-former gives him a nod, he turns back to Skywarp. He has no idea how to do this, so he decides to just echo what Blast Off had done. “Okay. Are you ready?”

It works. Again, Skywarp dims his optics and relaxes his frame. “Ready, sir.”

“Good.” Bluestreak hesitates. He’d meant to start them off with a pede massage or something, something light and harmless, but suddenly he knows that’s that not what he wants. “Kneel for me, pet. I want to touch you.” He glances quickly at Blast Off again. “It’s just touch.”

Blast Off nods. It’s probably a go-ahead.

“Yes, sir,” Skywarp whispers. He sits up on his knees. With Bluestreak seated, they’re almost the same height.

“Use your safeword if I make you uncomfortable,” Bluestreak says softly. Then he reaches out and cradles Skywarp’s cheek.

It’s soft and warm to the touch, and Bluestreak stands up to move closer. His hand travels across Skywarp’s helm vents, over the top of his head, down to his neck. He finds a tensile cable and rubs it gently.

Skywarp’s optics dim.

The shoulder vents are next. Intricate slats cover their front, and Bluestreak runs his fingers over their surface carefully – up the front, over the edge, down the side and down to Skywarp’s shoulder. From there down the arm, across the gun mount that doesn’t hold a weapon anymore. Down the inside of his elbow, across his wrist, out to his palm.

Across each of his fingers.

Skywarp’s vents hitch.

Bluestreak turns Skywarp’s hand around, examines the back of it. Runs a gentle finger across the cables in his wrist. Then he puts the hand back down and focuses on the seeker’s front.

He touches the edge of the delicate, smooth cockpit, running a hand across it. It feels like glass, smooth and almost cool, but not quite. He stays clear of the seams, focusing on the plating instead. The vents on his shoulders and neck.

Skywarp shivers under his touch.

Bluestreak moves around the seeker. He watches those elegant wings trembling. Slowly, broadcasting his intentions, he lets one hand slide down across Skywarp’s shoulder to the spot where the wing is attached to his back, and then onto the wing itself. He flattens his hand against the broad surface, runs it in long, easy strokes across the smooth plane of Skywarp’s wings. When the seeker presses against him, he puts a hand on each wing, holding him in place.

“Stay still, pet.”

“Yes, sir.”

There’s an almost breathless quality to Skywarp’s voice. His wings are vibrating under Bluestreak’s hands, warm plating almost silky under his hands, and he explores every part of their surface. The sharp, flared tips. The leading edges. The connectors that so many sensors feed their information through.

Skywarp is trembling now, Bluestreak can feel it under his hands. Despite the trembling, the seeker’s holding perfectly still.

Impulsively, Bluestreak steps forward, putting a slight pressure on those wings and resting his head against the back of Skywarp’s helm. “So gorgeous, pet. You’re so beautiful, kneeling for me like this.”

Skywarp groans, and then he tenses, a shudder runs over his plating, and a flow of sparks cascade over his frame. He slumps slightly, pulling his wings closer to his frame, but he doesn’t move.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Blast Off interrupts, and Bluestreak blinks. He’d completely forgotten they were there. Pit, he’d completely forgotten where he _was_ , even.

He could see the appeal now. Oh, could he see the appeal.

And then what he just did crashes in over him.

“I’m sorry,” he bursts out. “We said no interfacing, and then I go and do that, and – frag, I didn’t mean to make you overload, I’m sorry –“

“Shh,” Blast Off croons, resting a hand on the back of Bluestreak’s neck. “You didn’t break any boundaries, and he didn’t use the safeword, so you’re fine. Let him come back to himself slowly, and then you can talk about this.” He pushes at Bluestreak slightly, enough to make him take the last step back to the chair and sit down.

Skywarp’s optics are still dimmed, but there’s a small smile on his face. As Bluestreak watches, those optics gradually brighten and meets his own.

“Well!” Skywarp says lightly. “That was interesting.” He sits down on the floor and leans forward towards Bluestreak. “So, do you think this could work?”

Bluestreak reboots his vocalizer. _Again_. Primus slaggit. “I really want it to.”

“In my opinion, you two should work very well together,” Blast Off says. “You’re a natural at this, Bluestreak. Though I do think you need a few more supervised sessions before you’re ready to go off on your own.”

“Yeah.” Bluestreak nods. “I… liked this. But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Skywarp leans forward, practically into Bluestreak’s lap. “You did well. But there’s a part of it we haven’t gotten to yet.”

As far as Bluestreak can figure out, there’s a lot of things they haven’t done yet. And what they did do was more than they’d intended to.

“There is.” Blast Off gives them a small smile. “It’s called aftercare, and it’s a crucial part of the arrangement. You owe it to your submissive to ease him back into the real world after a scene like this. To care for any injuries, to calm any reaction. With Skywarp…” His smile turns fond. “Skywarp is a cuddler. So if I were you, at this point, I’d just lean back. And hope that chair can take the weight.”

“Take the weight? How – oh.”

Well, that answers that. Skywarp can only barely fit on his lap, but it’s not from lack of trying.

Tentatively, Bluestreak puts his arms around him. This still feels strange, almost unnerving. He’s not been comfortable being close to the seeker.

Though he probably owes him this much after that inadvertent tactile overload.

“This was fairly low intensity,” Blast Off continues. “So cuddling should be enough for him. After a normal or higher intensity scene, you may have to bring him back to himself. Clean him off. Touch. Cuddle. I’ll guide you through a couple of sessions of that too. And you can comm me in between, if you have any questions.”

Skywarp nuzzles his neck. His dark wings twitch slightly.

So, so strange.

“This was an easy scene for him to do,” Blast Off says, pulling Bluestreak’s attention away from Skywarp again. “The only thing you asked him to do was to sit still and let you touch, and he’s well trained to sit still. But it was not an easy scene for you. I’d imagine your head is full of questions right about now.”

“More than I know what to do with,” Bluestreak replies truthfully. “And I… feel weird. Like I’m not rooted in reality right now.”

Blast Off smiles, and it’s the soft smile he gave Skywarp earlier. “I completely understand. It’s fine, Bluestreak. If you have any questions later, just contact me.” He stands up. “Stay with him like that for as long as you both need to. It might help you, too.”

When Blast Off walks over to talk to Blaster, Bluestreak tunes them out. It’s remarkably easy to only focus on the seeker in his arms.

Skywarp’s gorgeous.

“Was that okay?” Bluestreak whispers. One thumb rubs across Skywarp’s shoulder. “You will tell me if I go too far?”

“I’ll use my safeword. Promise.” Skywarp sounds almost sleepy, and he purrs contentedly in Bluestreak’s arms.

Maybe being this close isn’t that hard after all.

 

It takes a little while longer before Skywarp slips off his lap again. The seeker stands, stretching, a faint tremor running through his frame and accentuating his wings.

Bluestreak has to abort the commands for his cooling fans to switch on. Again.

Yeah, this could work.

Skywarp gives him a cheeky grin as he walks them out. “So, we doing this again soon?”

“Soon,” Bluestreak confirms. As soon as possible, if he can help it and Blast Off is available.

“Great.” Skywarp’s grin morphs into a shy – of all things – smile, and he reaches out to take Bluestreak’s hand. “Then I guess I’ll bump into you soon.”

Bluestreak squeezes the dark fingers. “Looking forward to it.”

He waits until the door closes behind them, then walks back to the living room and dumps onto the couch. “That was intense.”

“That was hot,” Blaster counters, sauntering in from the sidelines and handing him a cube of energon. “Here. Also, Blast Off didn’t mention it, but I’m pretty sure fuel is a part of that aftercare thing as well.”

“Thanks. And how would you know?” He takes the cube and leans back into the cushions.

“Oh, I hear things here and there.” Blaster eases down into the couch next to him. “For the record, I think this could be good for you. For both of you. He clearly enjoyed it, and it’ll probably help you get past some of your issues.”

“Thanks, _Isobel_ ,” Bluestreak says dryly. “That wasn’t at all why I’m doing this, after all.”

Blaster laughs. “And here I thought you were doing it so you could net yourself a beautiful seeker.”

“Yeah, well, not gonna lie, it’s a consideration.” Bluestreak downs the rest of his cube. “He is gorgeous. Now that I can actually manage to see him as something other than a target to shoot at.”

“I know.” Blaster’s tone is soft. “I can see it when you look at him.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Nah. I know you that well.” He looks at Bluestreak over the rim of his cube. “Want to stay here tonight?”

It’s tempting. It’ll save him from having to get home on his own, anyway.

But. He’s not sure he’s ready for their usual tangling. Not after this.

Blaster seems to be reading his mind. “The spare berth’s yours if you want. And Arcee’s not coming over tonight.”

Bluestreak gives him a grateful smile. “Sure. That sounds good.”

He relaxes into the ease and familiarity of Blaster’s company, still a bit lost in thought.

There’s a lot to digest. But somehow, he feels a lot more hopeful than he did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...somehow the word count doubled on me? Don't know how that happened?
> 
> A note on characters: like in the main story, I try to stick to G1 cast and not let IDW bleed in. So when a familiar face makes an appearance in a familiar role here, I actually took a G1 character whose only claim to fame is being stomped into the sand by Trypticon and gave him a job that suits him better :) He's still not IDW, but he's closer to it than a lot of the others.

It takes three more sessions before Bluestreak dares to ask Skywarp out on a proper date. Three more sessions of Blast Off hovering in the background as Bluestreak learns that Skywarp will absolutely follow his every order. Even if that order is something mundane like ‘hold still while I clean you, pet’ or ‘fetch the energon cubes’ or even ‘clean these floors, pet’. That one in particular had seemed completely pointless and ridiculous to Bluestreak at first, but Skywarp had done it eagerly enough.

Skywarp does everything eagerly. There’s this shine to his optics when he’s being directed, like he lives for surrendering control over his own frame.

Three sessions of careful touches, calm directions, and learning the true meaning of aftercare. Of talking, often to the point of exhaustion, and sometimes just sitting together. Of cuddles, sometimes on a couch, sometimes on a berth. Recharging together, just that once and completely by accident, with Bluestreak waking up feeling more rested than in a long time only to see Blast Off still watching over them.

Bluestreak still doesn’t understand. But he’s beginning to think he might get there.

Three sessions before their first date, and still Bluestreak is nervous as all pit. It’s a different kind of nervous, though – not the ‘slag he’s a seeker’ kind of nerves, but the ‘slag I’m going out with Skywarp, what if I mess up’ kind of nerves.

It’s a good change.

“Calm down,” Arcee says. She brushes an imaginary fleck of dust off his shoulder. “You’re comfortable with him by now, aren’t you?”

“I’m more comfortable than I was,” Bluestreak counters. “But we have a ways to go yet.”

“At least you’re going that way.” She leans in, giving him a brief peck on the mouth. “I’m glad you’re happy, babe. Even if it means I don’t get to share you anymore.”

He chuckles. “Through no fault of yours, I promise.”

“I know.” She winks, placing a hand on his chest. “Your spark’s been captured by a pretty seeker. Now go meet him already, or you’ll be late.”

“What? No.” He frowns. “I haven’t had my spark captured.”

Arcee laughs at him. Genuinely, merrily, like he’s just told the greatest joke ever. “Yeah, sure. You keep telling yourself that, babe. But now you seriously need to get going, or he’s going to think you stood him up! Go on, get out of here!”

He lets her usher him out the door. Honestly, it’s probably the only way he’ll manage to actually leave.

The café isn’t that far away, but it is unfortunately far enough to give him plenty of time to get even more nervous. And let Arcee’s words really sink in.

He hasn’t had his spark captured. Has he? Sure, he’s attracted to Skywarp, but who wouldn’t be? The mech’s smelter-hot, absolutely gorgeous, and with a wit and personality that fits the frame to boot. Anyone would be attracted to that package.

That’s all it is.

He’s fairly sure, anyway.

The café’s on the main square, but tucked out of the way in the corner near the park-that-isn’t-yet. Even with the outdoors seating, it’s secluded. Perfect for not feeling crowded and penned in while still maintaining enough privacy to be comfortable.

At least Bluestreak hopes so. And he really hopes this Swerve character who runs the place knows what he’s doing.

When he rounds the corner, he can see Skywarp hovering in front of the café front. Literally hovering, his pedes floating just off the ground. He keeps looking around anxiously.

It’s enough to bring a smile to Bluestreak’s face as he closes the distance.

“Hey,” he calls. “You ready to take off on me?”

The excited smile on Skywarp’s face as he turns around is enough to make Bluestreak’s spark spin faster.

 _Fine, Arcee. You’re right._ Maybe his spark has been a little bit stolen after all.

“I’m just waiting for you,” the seeker replies. He drops down to stand solidly on the ground. “Guess I was getting a bit overeager.”

“I’m flattered.” He takes Skywarp’s hand and leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek. The blush rising on Skywarp’s face is adorable. “Ready to go inside?”

“Definitely. I’m hungry.” Skywarp smiles at him, still with that undertone of shyness. “Would you think I’m weird if I say I couldn’t refuel this morning because I was too nervous?”

Bluestreak laughs, squeezing Skywarp’s hand. “No. That would just make two of us.”

He leads Skywarp to a table and pushes the button that summons the server. Who also happens to be the owner.

“Hey, mechs!” Swerve beams up at them, almost their height despite standing up while they’re sitting. He chatters away about specials and drinks and someone who’d made the treats and the lack of proper bar legislation forcing him to run a café instead –

\- the mech just doesn’t stop.

“I’m sorry,” Bluestreak whispers as Swerve finally walks away to get their orders. “I thought this would be peaceful and nice.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Skywarp smiles, and his leg presses against Bluestreak’s briefly. “We’ll just take our stuff to go if he becomes a nuisance. The park isn’t a park yet, but we can still eat there.”

Bluestreak glances out at the space in question. It’s all uncleared rubble – the ruins have been knocked down, but it doesn’t look like there will be any work done there soon.

And the last place he wants to be with Skywarp right now is in an empty lot with nothing but rubble and dust.

Skywarp is still smiling shyly at him. The same smile that greeted Bluestreak at the end of the last three scenes, usually just before Skywarp somehow maneuvered himself into Bluestreak’s lap.

This time, it makes Bluestreak nervous. Without Blast Off there to lend him a semblance of authority, he doesn’t feel like he’s in control at all.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he manages, standing up. “I need to make a quick call.”

“Oh. Oh, okay.” Skywarp’s face falls. For a moment Bluestreak regrets his words, wants nothing more than to take them back and sit back down like nothing has happened. But he can’t relax like this. He can’t be what Skywarp wants him to be without checking first.

He walks just far enough away that Skywarp can see him but not hear him before digging up the contact he wants.

::Bluestreak? Aren’t you two on a date right now?::

::Hey, Blast Off. Yeah, we are. But I have a question.::

::Well, let’s get to it then,:: Blast Off replies, not unkindly. ::So you can get back to Skywarp. We don’t want him to feel like you abandoned him.::

::I don’t know what he wants from me,:: Bluestreak confesses in a rush. ::I mean, does he expect me to be in control even now? Because I can’t do that, I’m nervous as all pit and just now he started talking about a picnic and I just can’t do that, I’ll freak out again and ruin everything and – and I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have my rifle right now because I would shoot at him and I really, really don’t want to do that, but if he expects me to take charge and be calm and controlled then -::

::Hush,:: Blast Off says, and Bluestreak’s mouth snaps closed. ::First. This is a date, not a scene. You’re not his dominant right now, and he’s not your submissive, so put those thoughts away. Second.:: His voice softens, and Bluestreak unconsciously relaxes. :: Tell _him_ all these things, Bluestreak. You two are building a relationship, a true relationship, and in a relationship everyone should be equal. Tell him what bothers you. Confide in him. Explain what’s difficult for you, and he will just trust you more for it. Take my word for that.::

::He won’t be disappointed with me?:: Bluestreak dares to ask, for all that it makes him feel tiny and small and embarrassed. ::That I’m not strong all the time?::

Blast Off snorts. ::Who the frag is strong all the time? No one, that’s who. You can’t just give, Bluestreak. You have to allow yourself to accept support as well. Let Skywarp in.::

Good advice. Though easier said than done.

::I’ll try,:: he replies. It’s really all he can do.

::Good. Now go back to him before he thinks you’ve fled.:: Blast Off chuckles to soften the impact of the words. ::I have faith in you, Bluestreak.::

::Thanks.::

He closes the connection and takes a steadying in-vent. Accepting support. He can do that.

Hopefully.

Skywarp is smiling at him as he sits back down. Swerve’s clearly been by with their order while Bluestreak was talking to Blast Off, and the steamy hot energon and plate of treats smells as enticing as it looks.

“I’m sorry.” Bluestreak fiddles with his cube – more of a glass than a cube, really. It’s actually very nice. “I had to ask someone for some advice.”

“It’s okay.” Skywarp smiles again, and Bluestreak thinks it’s really more than he deserves. “Did it help?”

“Yeah.” He reaches across the table, and Skywarp’s hand meets his. “I’m not comfortable going out in the park with you yet, Skywarp. I’m afraid I’ll freak out again.”

“Oh! That’s okay.” Another smile, and seriously, Bluestreak is running out of ways to describe his reactions at this point. Instead of thinking too hard about it, he squeezes Skywarp’s fingers as the seeker continues. “I mean, we don’t have to go out there. I’m happy right here. And the treats are good. Want one?”

Bluestreak watches with wide optics as Skywarp picks up a treat and holds it up for him to taste. His fingers are trembling slightly when Bluestreak leans forward and opens his mouth.

The treat is sweet and sharp at once, crunchy with a soft center, and Bluestreak can’t take his eyes off Skywarp.

“Tasty, right?” the seeker murmurs. “Want another?”

“I want to do this in a scene,” Bluestreak blurts out. He can feel himself blushing. That thought was not meant to be voiced. “This,” he clarifies when Skywarp just looks confused. “The treats. The feeding.”

Skywarp’s smile is a slow affair, beginning with a brightening of the optics and ending in a full-blown grin. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He suddenly looks shy again. “Since we’re on the topic… There’s something I want to try, too.” He picks up another treat and presses it against Bluestreak’s lips until Bluestreak opens his mouth and accepts it. “I’m kind of nervous about telling you, because we’ve been taking it very easy. But I… well, I… Um.”

This, Bluestreak at least knows how to handle. He can draw on the experience he’s gained in the last three sessions.

“Tell me,” he says, using a soft version of his commanding voice. “You can tell me, Skywarp. I won’t be upset.”

It works, just as he hoped. Skywarp smiles as he looks down and pulls a datapad from subspace. “This. I want this.”

Bluestreak turns the pad on and opens the picture file on it.

It’s a collar. Slim, what looks like leather and fine chain, meant to sit snugly around a mech’s throat.

Leather and fine chain.

He flashes Skywarp a smile. “I think we can work something out.”

 

He stumbles upon it purely by accident. It’s a sheer stroke of luck.

Luck, because Wheeljack manages to forget to pick up his order of gears and batteries from Brawn, and so sends Bluestreak instead. Luck, again, because Bluestreak ends up going alone since no one else have the time to spare.

Luck, because the thing he’s been hunting for and dreaming of is elegantly showcased on the wall of Brawn’s workshop.

Bluestreak just stands and stares at the exhibited pieces. They’re arranged across a dark, soft mesh background and covered by a pane of glass. The rings and such aren’t of interest to him, but there are several wing decorations that are. And just below the crown centerpiece, there’s a thin, woven chain collar. Almost more of a necklace, really, but it’s very close to what he wants.

Business first, though. Then he’ll pry some more information out of the minibot bustling towards him.

“Wheeljack’s stuff, huh?” The minibot grins. “Yeah, I have it here. I did wonder why he didn’t come for it himself, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it slipped his mind. Come on back.” He opens a door to let Bluestreak into the main warehouse, then disappears behind the shelves.

“Guess he got caught up in something.” Bluestreak eyes the boxes and crates stacked three deep in the large space. “I don’t know what it is, even. Will it fit in my alt mode?”

“It would have fit in Wheeljack’s, so I guess it’ll fit in yours,” Brawn calls back. “It’s just a couple of small boxes. Not that heavy, either.”

“I thought Wheeljack made all the components himself.” He reaches out and runs a hand over the lengths of steel stacked up on one of the shelves. “Why’s he ordering stuff in?”

Brawn reappears, carrying one crate under each arm. “If you could delegate the menial stuff, wouldn’t you do it? Besides, if all of them hire people to do that kind of thing for them – like we used to, you know, back when you were learning to walk and talk and stuff – there’s more work to pass around. It’s not like Wheeljack and the rest of them will be out of projects any time soon.”

“I guess.” He takes the boxes, which are as manageable as Brawn made them look. “Is there a bill or something to settle?”

Brawn waves a hand. “Nah, ‘Jackie’s taken care of it. You’re good.”

“Okay. In that case…” Here goes nothing. He desperately hopes Brawn won’t ask what he needs the stuff for. “I noticed the jewelry set up in the front office. Did you make them?”

Brawn laughs. “Primus, no. I do cogs and wheels, not jewels and beads. That’s a neutral called Crafter. Gave him a good deal on the chain, and he asked to leave some of his pieces here. I guess he’s hoping it’ll net him more customers, though I don’t know why he expects my usual crowd to be interested in that sort of thing. He’d be better off leaving it in the café on the square or something.”

“They’re nice pieces.” Bluestreak wanders over to the case again, pretends to take an interest in the craftsmanship. “Good work, too. You supplied the chain? What material is it?”

“That’s one’s beryllium. Light, fairly strong for its size, but it’s fairly thin, as you see.” Brawn vanished behind the counter and reappeared with a small key. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He unlocks the case and lifts out the chained collar for Bluestreak to touch. Luck, again, that that’s the piece he chooses, since it’s the one Bluestreak is the most interested in.

“As you can see, the fine chains are interwoven to create an almost mesh-like look,” Brawn rattles off. “It’s supposed to be soft and smooth, comfortable to wear while still being strong enough to not break. The weaving technique reinforces the natural strength of the metal.” He winks at Bluestreak. “And if you think this sounds rehearsed, it’s because he grilled me on it. Repeatedly.”

Bluestreak chuckles. “Well, it’s a good thing he did, if you’re going to make any sales on his behalf.” The collar slides easily between his fingers, all supple and shiny. But it’s not quite right. “Do you know if he does custom work?”

“I guess so?” Brawn shrugs as he accepts the collar back and puts it in its place. “I’ll give you his contact info, if you like, and you can ask him.”

“Sounds good,” Bluestreak agrees. “I’m interested in just the chain, too. Do you have any more?”

Brawn grins, the dealer in him coming to the forefront. “Plenty. Not just that type, either. Come on, I’ll show you.”

 

It’s another week or so before Bluestreak’s finally ready. He’s talked to Blast Off, getting his opinion – and his promise to stay away for this session. He’s picked up his purchases from Brawn and Crafter. He’s even cleaned his apartment.

Tonight will be special. Hopefully for all the right reasons.

Not that that doesn’t mean he’s not nervous again. At least this time he knows a bit of what he should expect, and Blast Off has promised to stay available and close by in case Bluestreak or Skywarp suddenly needs him there.

 _You’ll be fine, though,_ he’d said. _You know what to expect from Skywarp, and with the way you’re describing the scene it’s not going to break any of your hard rules. It’ll just be an extra aid to help him to stay still, and he can easily escape if he needs to. I have faith in you._ Of course, he hadn’t been able to resist the final reminder. _Just be careful with the aftercare for this. He’ll need more than you’ve experienced so far, because the scene will be more intense._

It’s a good reminder. So Bluestreak’s set out the fuel cubes so he can get at them easily. He’s got a thick mat for Skywarp to sit on, polish and cleanser and soft cloth, and blankets ready in case they need them.

He’s prepared and ready. He hopes.

Not that the door chime does anything but rack up his nerves.

“Hey,” Skywarp says brightly when Bluestreak opens the door. He’s all shiny, like he’s taken the time to look extra good for tonight. Like he knows what Bluestreak’s got planned, even though Bluestreak asked for it to be a surprise – which Skywarp only agreed to because Blast Off and Bluestreak both promised that it wouldn’t be a bad one.

They’re building trust. It’s slow work, but they’re getting there.

“Hey,” Bluestreak replies. He reaches out to take Skywarp’s hand, tugging slightly to invite him in. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” Skywarp looks around as the door closes behind him. “Nice place. Very… minimalistic.”

Bluestreak snorts a laugh. “Very devoid of personality, you mean. I keep meaning to put in something other than the bare minimum, but it’s just not been important enough. I’ve got a berth and some storage space and a couch and a table, I don’t need much more.”

“That’s because you never have any visitors here,” Skywarp points out. “If you did, you’d know you at least need an entertainment system.”

Bluestreak shrugs, an easy smile on his lips. They’re more comfortable together than he’d feared. “I guess that could be an advantage. Not that there’s a lot of entertainment to be had yet, aside from the stuff we brought from Earth.”

Skywarp steps close, well into Bluestreak’s personal space. He winks. “We’ll have to make our own entertainment, then.”

Holy Primus, that voice. It’s almost enough to bring Bluestreak to his knees.

“I thought that was why we were here, yeah,” he manages. He lifts a hand to cradle Skywarp’s cheek. “Do you need anything first? Fuel?”

“Nah, I’m fully fueled and ready to go. Kind of excited, though.” There’s a quick-as-a-flash nibble of lips, and Bluestreak has to suppress a groan at the sight. “You promised me a surprise.”

“I did. Well, if you’re ready…” He leans in, brushes his nose across Skywarp’s cheek and helm vent. “Let’s go into the other room.”

“Lead the way,” Skywarp breathes. He turns his head just enough that their lips almost meet. Almost, but not quite.

Bluestreak leads him into the adjoining berth room. It’s not big by any stretch of the imagination, but with a bit of creative rearranging he’s managed to get it suitable.

Skywarp looks around. “Thought you said you have a berth.”

“I do. It’s just tucked away at the moment.” Bluestreak gestures to the thick mat he’s placed on the floor. “This is for you. I want to give you your surprise in-scene, okay?”

“Absolutely.” Skywarp lets go of his hand, and Bluestreak misses the touch instantly, but it’s worth it to see the gorgeous seeker kneel at the center of the mat. “Whenever you’re good to go, Blue.”

Bluestreak hesitates, then leans in and plants a quick kiss on Skywarp’s cheek. “Okay. Then get ready.”

He never tires of this. Watching Skywarp go from energetic and almost giddy to calm and totally grounded in the moment is intoxicating. The seeker looks up at him with trusting optics. “I’m ready, sir.”

Oh frag.

The nerves hit Bluestreak again, hard. What the frag does he think he’s doing? Can he really do this alone? What if he messes up somehow and hurts Skywarp? Primus, what if he _hurts Skywarp_?

This was a horrible idea.

Skywarp still looks up at him. His optics trace Bluestreak’s doorwings, which he only now realizes are vibrating almost to the point of pain.

Skywarp looks Bluestreak over again. He frowns. Then he stands up. “Planet,” he says decisively. “You okay, Blue?”

“I’m scared,” Bluestreak admits, looking down. Scared, and more than a little ashamed. Primus, Skywarp used the safeword. The one he’d never had to use with Blast Off. What must the seeker think of him?

“There’s no need to be scared,” Skywarp says softly. He reaches for Bluestreak, and Bluestreak melts against him, his arms tightening around Skywarp’s waist and his forehead resting against the seeker’s shoulder. “You take this as far or as easy as you want to,” Skywarp continues. “Keep your own comfort level in mind, okay? If it’s too much to do the surprise today, we do that another day. I just want to be here with you.”

Bluestreak holds him tight for another moment before easing back. “What if I hurt you?”

“Then I’ll use the safeword, and you’ll stop,” Skywarp replies. He sounds sure, like there’s no doubt in his mind that that’s exactly what will happen. “I think you can do this. You’re already so good.” He nuzzles Bluestreak’s cheek. “Want to try again?”

“I – yeah. Yeah.” He squeezes Skywarp’s hands. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” The seeker’s smile is gentle. He kneels back on the mat, looks down. In-vents. Then meets Bluestreak’s optics. “I’m ready, sir.”

And suddenly it’s as easy as venting. Like Bluestreak can’t remember what he was afraid of. He slips into his role as if he’s never been anything else.

“There’s my beautiful pet,” he croons, circling Skywarp slowly. “Looking so good and pampered today. Did you polish for me?”

“Yes, sir,” Skywarp replies, almost shy. “I wanted to look good for you.”

“And you’ve done a good job.” Bluestreak’s index finger glides along the top of Skywarp’s left wing. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you, sir.” There’s a faint blush on Skywarp’s cheeks now.

“Such a good job deserves a nice reward, I think,” Bluestreak muses. “What do you think, pet? Would you like a reward?”

“Yes, sir,” Skywarp breathes. “I think I would like that very much.”

“I certainly hope so.” Bluestreak brushes his fingertips across Skywarp’s lips, barely touching. “Dim your optics, pet. I don’t want you to look until I tell you you can.”

A moment of hesitation, and Skywarp’s optics dim all the way.

Trust, right there. Bluestreak revels in it.

“There’s my good pet,” he murmurs, fingertips traveling across Skywarp’s cheek. “You’re amazing. Now hold still for me until I tell you to look.”

“Yes, sir.”

Skywarp is very, very good at holding still. Bluestreak sneaks glances at him while he digs up the surprise, finding first the small, then the larger box. He turns with them, sets them down in front of Skywarp. Extra glad, for a moment, that he had Crafter decorate the metal boxes as well to make them look special.

Skywarp deserves special.

“Okay, pet,” he says softly. “You can look.”

Skywarp’s optics brighten slowly. He looks at the boxes in front of him, and then at Bluestreak. “Sir?”

“I got you something, pet. Something I hope you’ll like.” He gestures to the top box. “Do you want to open it? Or do you want me to open it for you?”

Primus, he wants to kiss those smiling lips.

“Please open it for me, sir.” Skywarp’s optics are bright now, focused on Bluestreak’s face like he’s the most beautiful thing the seeker’s ever seen.

“Alright.” He settles on knees next to Skywarp, almost close enough to touch, and reaches for the top box. “Ready?”

Skywarp just nods. And licks his lips. Primus.

Bluestreak slides the clasp open and lifts the lid carefully.

Inside, on a pillow of soft dark mesh, sits a woven metal collar. It glints as the different strands in the complicated weave catch the light.

Crafter outdid himself.

“Do you like it, pet?” Bluestreak asks, suddenly nervous to hear the response.

“I do, sir,” Skywarp breathes. His optics are locked on the collar, and he’s biting his lower lip. “Oh, I really do. Can I – can you put it on me?”

“Of course, pet.” The collar opens in the back, and Bluestreak fastens it carefully around Skywarp’s neck, not missing the slight shiver coursing through those dark wings as he does. “You will tell me if it pinches or is uncomfortable.”

Skywarp just smiles. “It’s perfect, sir.”

This time, Bluestreak can’t resist. At least he manages to keep the kiss fairly chaste.

“It looks beautiful on you,” he murmurs against Skywarp’s lips. “You’re so gorgeous, pet.”

“Thank you, sir.”

It takes real willpower to pull away. Bluestreak pointedly ignores the second box – and how Skywarp’s gaze darts to it. Instead he stands up and circles Skywarp again. “Oh yes. It looks very good on you. What do you think, pet?”

“It feels nice, sir.” That shy smile again, Primus. Skywarp will be the end of him. “Thank you.”

Bluestreak stops in front of Skywarp. “I’m glad you like it. Would you like to show your gratitude properly?” _Please, please say yes._

Skywarp’s nod is eager.

 _Thank Primus._ “Good. Then open this second box for me.”

“Yes, sir.” Skywarp pulls the large box close and slides the clasp open. Bluestreak positions himself off to the side, but so he can still see the seeker’s face. His expressions are almost like a drug to him at this point.

Skywarp’s optics brighten as he opens the lid. He takes a handful of the fine chain in his hand, watching in clear fascination as the slim links slide easily around his fingers.

“Do you like it, pet?”

“It’s pretty, sir. What’s it for?”

Bluestreak leans close, whispering directly into Skywarp’s audial. “I want to chain up your wings.”

He knows he doesn’t imagine the gasp. Or the heated ex-vent against his plating.

“Shall I do so, pet?” he murmurs. His lips are almost touching Skywarp’s helm. “Let this fine chain run across your wings, hold them, pin them in place until they can’t move?”

A tremor races across Skywarp’s frame. “Oh _yes_ , sir!”

Bluestreak can’t stop himself from smiling. He leans over Skywarp’s arm and picks up the box. “Then sit still, pet.” He settles behind Skywarp, makes sure he has easy access to those tantalizing wings.

The chain really is gorgeous. All thin and silvery, it contrasts beautifully with Skywarp’s dark coloring. And matches his collar, which is not a coincidence.

“This is very fine chain, pet. If you twitch too hard, you will break it. I’ll be very upset with you if it breaks while you wear it.”

“Yes, sir.” Another tremor.

In the bottom of the box, there’s a fabric bag. Bluestreak upends it on the mat, revealing the magnetic clips that’ll fasten the chain on Skywarp’s wings.

Putting the chain on is one of the most intensely intimate things he’s ever done.

He starts at the leading edges. Places clips at set distances to each other. Tries to imagine the final result, how the chain will run across both wings and link them together in a cage. Lets the magnets tease across Skywarp’s plating before he leaves them in their designated spot.

Clips around the ailerons. Across the flat planes. Over the connectors.

All the while, he can feel Skywarp trembling underneath his fingertips.

The chain is light, thin, and though the metal’s strong it will break if Skywarp moves too fast. So Bluestreak has to be careful as he puts it on, too, taking care not to startle the seeker. His fingertips trace the dark plating as he attaches the chain, to ensure Skywarp always knows where Bluestreak is and what he’s doing.

And to feel that delicious tremor. Skywarp’s venting harder, his plating’s warmer. He’s enjoying this.

Bluestreak loops the chain around Skywarp’s wings carefully, weaving a delicate interlaced web across the dark metal.

Letting his whole hand graze the warm plating whenever he attaches the chain to a clip.

It takes too little time before he’s finished. Skywarp’s wings are angled slightly backwards, chains binding them together so they can’t move, but without putting too much stress on the them.

It looks just as gorgeous as Bluestreak had imagined.

When he sits back, he notices his own cooling fans going, the heat in his core, how his plating is flaring.

Whoops.

“How does it feel, pet?” His voice is husky, lower than usual, and Skywarp definitely notices if the shiver of his plating is anything to go by.

“It’s good, sir.” Skywarp sounds affected too. It’s a bit of a relief, really. It seems Bluestreak’s not the only one to enjoy this. “I like them.”

“That’s good.” Bluestreak thrums the chains gently, teasing over the taut links, and Skywarp jerks in front of him.

“Oh f-frag…”

Bluestreak grins. Good thing they haven’t established a rule about speaking out of turn. He’s nowhere near ready to punish Skywarp yet. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever be, in fact.

But this… This trembling, almost moaning seeker? This, he can work with.

“Like that, hmm?” He tugs at a part of the chain that’s clipped to the left wing’s leading edge. “I figured you might, pet. I figured your wings are as sensitive as mine, only for a different purpose.” He plucks at the chain, like he’s playing a melody, and Skywarp reacts beautifully, moaning and pushing back into Bluestreak’s hands.

It opens avenues that Bluestreak honestly hadn’t planned to follow tonight. But now that the idea’s there, he can’t seem to let it go.

And it’s not like interfacing’s off the table. Skywarp did say that interfacing was fine as long as Bluestreak felt ready for it.

Well, he definitely feels ready to try and recreate the results from that very first session.

He leans in towards Skywarp’s audial. “Tell me, pet,” he whispers, fingers plucking another pair of chain strings. “Can you overload from this?”

“I d-don’t – I don’t know, s-sir,” Skywarp manages. His voice is practically a moan, and the heat coming off him is enough to ratchet up Bluestreak’s own cooling fans. “I hope so. Feels so _good_.”

Well, that’s a challenge Bluestreak’s happy to accept.

He settles behind Skywarp again, teases at the chains, tracing which ones make Skywarp react more.

Like how the ones connected to his ailerons make him tremble, but the ones on the leading edges make him moan. And the ones that tuck over the connectors has the seeker pressing back against Bluestreak, putty in his hands, almost falling over into his lap.

“Please… Please, sir…”

He kisses the back of Skywarp’s helm. “Please what, pet?”

“Please…! Feels so good, I want to overload, please sir!”

“You want to overload, do you? Well, you’re looking delectable.” What was it the humans said? In for a penny, in for a pound?

He leans in, supports some of Skywarp’s weight as the seeker melts against him. Skywarp’s wings are trembling continuously now, making the chain jingle faintly, and the hot air from his vents blasts against Bluestreak’s plating.

“I think we can make that happen,” he whispers. He keeps teasing the chain with one hand, but the other moves to Skywarp’s wing connectors, caressing. “I want to see your face this time, pet. Look at me.”

Skywarp turns his head and meets Bluestreak’s optics. He’s resting his head against Bluestreak’s shoulder at this point, sitting back on his thrusters and letting Bluestreak take almost all his weight. Still somehow managing to keep his wings free and pushing into Bluestreak’s hands.

“There’s my beautiful pet,” Bluestreak murmurs. He finds the sections of the chain that Skywarp seemed to enjoy most, the stretch trailing from the connectors to the leading edge.

One in each hand. His mouth against Skywarp’s audial.

Here goes nothing.

He tugs at both chain strings simultaneously and revs his engine against Skywarp’s back. “Overload for me, pet.”

Skywarp comes undone.

He tilts his head back and keens, sparks racing over his frame, air thick with the smell of ozone.

He’s _breathtaking_.

Bluestreak holds him until he seems coherent again, optics lighting up and looking at him. There’s still a faint blush over his cheeks, and indentations in his lower lip from where he nibbled at it.

“Hello, pet.” Bluestreak smiles at him. “That looked like it felt good.”

“So good, sir,” Skywarp agrees in a low purr. He snuggles in against Bluestreak’s throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, pet. I’m glad you liked my gift.”

“I did, sir.” Skywarp’s wings flicker once. “Did _you_ like it, sir?”

“You look amazing. So yes, I did.” Bluestreak presses a kiss to Skywarp’s helm.

“… you didn’t overload, sir.”

“That doesn’t mean that I didn’t like your gift.” Bluestreak gently, gently nudges Skywarp upright again. He doesn’t remove the chains, just stands up and walks to stand in front of the seeker. “I got what I wanted out of this.” He smiles down at the seeker. “Now. I’m going to remove the chain, and then I’ll remove the collar and put it back in its box. Hold still.”

“Yes, sir.”

The removal of the chain is quicker and more efficient than putting it on was. Bluestreak doesn’t linger, keeps his touch businesslike, and both chain and bag of clasps are soon back in their box. Then he opens the collar and slips it from Skywarp’s neck. Once both boxes are back on the shelf, he grabs two energon cubes and turn back to the kneeling seeker. “Very good, pet.” He kneels next to Skywarp. “Let’s end it there.”

“Okay.” Skywarp smiles and leans towards Bluestreak, resting his head against Bluestreak’s shoulder. “That was awesome. Well done you.”

“I’m glad you liked it. I know I took a chance with that chain, since you said no bondage.” He embraces the seeker and pulls him down until he’s got most of the seeker laying back against his torso. Skywarp’s wings are still trembling slightly, his plating still venting heat, and Bluestreak can’t resist holding him tight and pressing his face into the crook of Skywarp’s neck.

Skywarp snorts. “That wasn’t bondage. That was just an extra incentive for me not to move. I really, really liked it.” He turns his head and grins at Bluestreak. “In case you didn’t get that.”

Bluestreak laughs at that. “I kind of did. Here.” He hands one cube to Skywarp. “Drink that, and then lie down on your stomach. I’d like to take a look at your wings.”

“They’re fine,” Skywarp says, but he sips at the energon anyway. Taking his own sweet time with it too, one hand over Bluestreak’s. Cuddler. “You didn’t strain anything.”

“Nevertheless.” Bluestreak kisses Skywarp’s helm. “Let me pamper you for a bit.”

That has Skywarp downing the rest of his fuel. He turns and flops down on his stomach with a groan. “You know I never say no to that.”

“I know.” Just like Bluestreak never says no to getting his hands on those wings.

They’re fine, though, just like Skywarp said. Bluestreak runs a cloth over the wing surfaces anyway. Since he promised pampering and all.

“Your hands are magic,” Skywarp mumbles.

Bluestreak chuckles softly. “You falling into recharge on me?”

“Maybe. Mind if I spend the night on your floor?”

Well. That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it.

“Will you be comfortable recharging on my floor?” he deflects.

“Probably not.” Skywarp sighs and turns his head so he can meet Bluestreak’s optics. “We’re getting better, aren’t we?”

No fooling this one, apparently.

“We are,” Bluestreak confirms. “And I’m sorry I’m not there yet.”

“No apologizing.” Skywarp gives him a tired smile. “It’s really good so far. We’ll get there.”

“We will.”

For a moment they just stay like that, staring at each other. Skywarp looks tired, but happy, and there’s something fond in his optics Bluestreak can’t remember having seen there before.

He wonders what Skywarp sees in his.

“Well,” Skywarp says finally. “If I’m not recharging on your floor, I guess I should get going.”

“I guess so.”

Bluestreak sits back as Skywarp gets up, then lets the seeker take his hand and pull him to his feet. Skywarp winks at him. “I really did love that collar.”

He keeps hold of Bluestreak’s hand as they walk back to the front door. Bluestreak doesn’t mind.

“I’ll comm you,” Bluestreak says softly. “Okay?”

“Definitely okay,” Skywarp agrees. He’s still smiling, still got that look in his optics.

So it’s pretty much a given what Bluestreak has to do.

Skywarp’s plating is still warm under Bluestreak’s hands as he steps close. He glances down at Skywarp’s lips once before meeting his optics again. “Okay,” he repeats. Then he kisses him.

Granted, they’ve kissed in-scene before. But not like this. Not like equals.

And definitely not in this slow, sweet way that makes Bluestreak weak in the knees and sets his spark spinning faster.

Like it’s their first kiss.

“Wow,” Skywarp breathes as the kiss finally breaks.  “Now you definitely need to comm me.”

“I will,” Bluestreak promises. “I’ll comm you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Skywarp smiles. “Good night, Blue.”

“Night, Skywarp.”

He stands there watching as the seeker lifts off the ground a bit before transforming and flying off. It takes him a moment to realize that the familiar trepidation he’s always experienced when seeing the a seeker in flight is missing.

It seems they really are making progress.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter in this fic that fuzipenguin hasn't looked over for me. I've tried to do the actions justice. Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

::Bluestreak?:: Skywarp’s voice is sleepy, despite it being the middle of the day.

::Yeah. I’m sorry if I woke you.::

::You didn’t.:: A soft chuckle. ::I was half asleep, but I shouldn’t have been. So in a way I owe you. What’s up?::

::Nothing much. I just… missed you.:: Kind of embarrassing to admit, really, but true none the less.

::Let me guess.:: The tone turns teasing, but it sounds half-hearted. ::You’re sitting alone in that empty flat of yours, aren’t you? Craving some company.::

Kind of, but not quite. He’s craving very specific company. And there’s something about that tone he’d like to figure out. ::You doing anything later? This evening?::

::Didn’t have any plans. TC’s working later, so we’ve been by to visit Star today.:: A sigh. ::To be honest, I could do with a distraction.::

Ah. That’s probably it.

::Want to come over? Test out my new entertainment system?::

::You finally got one, huh? Count me in.:: Another sigh. ::Actually, can I come over right now? My processor isn’t leaving me alone.::

Bluestreak frowns, not that Skywarp can see it. That sounds like a request for something special. ::You want me to take charge for a bit?::

::Could you?:: Skywarp sounds hesitant, hopeful. ::On such short notice?::

He thinks over what he has lying around, what they haven’t tried, what he’s comfortable doing. ::Yeah, I think I can drum something up. Just come over here.::

 

He’s just about gotten everything together when Skywarp pings for entrance. The seeker looks haggard, exhausted, like he should be in recharge instead of getting ready for what should have been a fairly simple scene - one that Bluestreak can already tell will be much more intense than what he’d planned, simply because of Skywarp’s mood.

He puts the trays away and reaches for the other mech. Skywarp falls into his arms with a sigh that’s almost a sob, and it’s all Bluestreak can do to support his weight.

Definitely not the day for a scene. At least not unless he can calm Skywarp down first.

He manages to back up until they’re both sitting on the couch. Well, Bluestreak’s sitting – Skywarp is slumped over Bluestreak’s lap, vents still uneven, a faint trembling in his plating.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks softly.

“Not really,” Skywarp mumbles. “I just want to forget about it, really. Can you help me do that?”

Bluestreak hesitates. He strokes Skywarp’s shoulder – a bit to buy time, yes, but also because the seeker just seems to need it. Bluestreak’s never seen him like this. “You sure a scene is what you want today? You seem…” Tired. Upset. Defeated.

“I just want my processor to shut up,” Skywarp says, sitting up abruptly. “I just want to not hear the damn noise anymore, to get my mind to myself, to _forget_ , slaggit. There’s too much going on as it is.” He gets to his feet and begins pacing, suddenly full of manic energy, arms gesticulating wildly. “Is that too much to ask? For some peace and quiet in my own head?”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable doing a scene with you when you’re his upset.” Bluestreak makes himself say it, even though the sight of the agitated seeker in front of him is making him deeply uncomfortable. He hasn’t felt threatened by Skywarp’s presence in a while, and this is not a good day to start that up again.

“Want me to go to Blast Off instead, is that it?” Skywarp lashes out. “Maybe I should? He’s tougher than you anyway, not afraid to be firm, not afraid to do what I need. Though maybe you’re just afraid you’ll lose control, is that it? Reach for that weapon you don’t have anymore?”

“I’m not –“ Bluestreak begins, but he doesn’t get a chance to finish. Not that he knows what to say.

“Or is it that you’re afraid to be hurt, is that it?” Skywarp sneers. “Afraid the big bad seeker’s going to hurt _you_? Well, guess what, Blue? Everything you’ve heard about us, every mean, ugly thing, every crime, every appalling assault, it’s all true.” He stops in front of the couch, wings spread wide and dominating, punctuates every word with a poke to Bluestreak’s forehead. “It’s. All. True. We do damage, and we enjoy it.”

Bluestreak recoils. He dodges sideways, moving around the seeker and towards the door.

“That’s right, little mech, you’d better run,” Skywarp laughs darkly. “I remember Praxus, you know. I remember toasting on the ashes.”

Bluestreak strangles a sob as he flees out the door. From the corner of his optic, he barely sees Skywarp grab the tray of treats and throw it into the wall.

 

He doesn’t know how long he wanders for. Why he doesn’t comm anyone. His mind is numb, aside from the small part in the back of his head going ‘I told you so, I told you so, I told you so’.

It’s dark before he finally stops.

Stops completely, right in the middle of the road. Not knowing where he is, or what time it is. Suddenly becoming aware of his low fuel status, of his doorwings trembling and tense on his back.

What just happened?

There’s a slew of unanswered messages in his queue. Quite a few missed calls. Most of everything’s from the same contact.

He doesn’t call Skywarp back. But he begins walking slowly towards a more illuminated street, aiming to find his way back home.

Not that he knows what he’ll do when he gets there.

There are no other mecha walking the streets. He finally checks his chronometer, and it’s no wonder that the town’s empty – every self-respecting mech should be in recharge.

He kind of wishes he was, too. Then he could wake up and it would all have been a bad dream.

He trudges towards his own place, wings hanging low on his back, mind muddled with exhaustion and tiredness.

The lights are still on. The door’s ajar.

He pushes it all the way open and walks in without knowing what to expect.

He certainly hadn’t expected to see Skywarp still here. The seeker’s curled up against the wall, harsh vents grating in the silence.

He’s not in recharge. His optics light up as Bluestreak walks inside, and he climbs halfway to his feet before he freezes.

“You’re back.” Skywarp’s vocalizer sounds strained, like he’s been shouting.

“You’re still here.” Bluestreak can hear the dead quality to his own voice, the lack of inflection and intonation making him sound almost drone-like.

“I couldn’t leave. I didn’t…” He drags a hand down his face. “Bluestreak, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry.”

The seeker’s optics are wide, shining up at him.

Bluestreak drops heavily onto the couch. “I take it you were upset, earlier.”

Skywarp hesitates before nodding. He turns towards Bluestreak, but doesn’t come closer.

Bluestreak sighs. “You don’t get to take that out on me. I’m not going to stick around if you keep doing that.”

“I know. I know that.” He still doesn’t come closer.

“And you certainly don’t get to threaten me like that.”

“I know.”

They’re silent for a while. Bluestreak doesn’t know what to do – Skywarp seems repentant, says the right things, but no one’s reaching for anyone and there’s almost like an invisible wall between them.

And someone’s going to have to breach it.

Skywarp’s optics are still wide, staring at him. There’s a faint tremble in his wings.

Bluestreak sighs. “Come here.”

Skywarp doesn’t scurry, though it’s close. He doesn’t sit next to Bluestreak on the couch, either. Instead he settles on the floor, not quite touching Bluestreak’s knees.

The position tells Bluestreak a lot more about the seeker’s state of mind than anything else has so far.

Even the apology.

The temptation to heap more shame onto the seeker’s shoulders fade slowly. But he can’t let it go without at least trying to impress on Skywarp what his outburst caused.

“I don’t know if you know this,” he begins slowly, choosing each word. “But I wasn’t afraid of you anymore. Not like I was in the beginning. Not like when I’d freak out just seeing your silhouette.”

Skywarp bites his lip and looks down.

“I didn’t trust you yet,” Bluestreak continues. “I didn’t. But I was well on my way there. And I’m not sure where I am now.” He in-vents deeply. “I’m giving you a second chance to prove that this, what we have, that it’s worth it. And you’re going to have to prove you deserve that. Because I won’t be with someone who mistreats me.”

Skywarp shakes his head. He’s still biting his lip.

“So now you’re going to use your words.” Bluestreak keeps his tone firm. “You’re going to tell me why you’re upset, you’re going to explain why you felt the need to take it out on me like that, and you’re going to convince me that you’re not going to do that again. If you don’t, I’m kicking you out of here and I won’t let you come back.” It feels harsh, but Bluestreak thinks it has to be. “I’m healing, too. I’m trying to get better too. And I was fine with us getting better together. But you don’t get to use me as a tool to help you deal with things. I’m not sacrificing my own wellbeing for yours.”

Skywarp nods. He’s not looking up. Instead, he seems fascinated by his own fingers, twisting them together restlessly.

Bluestreak waits.

“It’s not true,” Skywarp begins abruptly, his voice low. “The stuff I said about seekers. It’s not true. We’re not… we’re not bad. Not really. We’re not a violent frame-type. We’re just seekers. No more or less quirky than anyone else. At least that’s the core truth.” He sighs. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember. Sometimes I feel so damn guilty that it’s all I can do to stand upright.”

Bluestreak doesn’t say anything. He just keeps watching Skywarp.

“We went to see Starscream today, TC and me,” Skywarp continues. “It was good and bad at once. Good, because he was animated and talking and pacing and so much like his old self. Bad, because he really was just like his old self. He was ranting about Megatron’s latest scheme, about the need for seekers to prove themselves, how much better he could have handled everything, how good everything would be when he became the leader of the Decepticons. And he talked about Vos.”

A small glance up at Bluestreak. “I know you were very young back then. What do you know of the fall of Vos?”

Bluestreak shrugs. “Practically nothing. It fell. Then Praxus fell. And that’s as far as I ever got.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can understand that.” Skywarp leans back against the couch. “Vos was… It had its flaws. But it was beautiful. All tall spires, bright and clean and strong. At least up high. It was home, despite all that was wrong with it. It was good.”

Skywarp speaks like he’s in a trance. Like he needs to distance himself from what he’s saying in order to get the words out.

“We’d just come back from patrol when we got the news. By then we hadn’t been home in… vorn. For all that Starscream was the Winglord, he didn’t actually rule directly. But when we were told, we all flew there as fast as we could.” He chuckled grimly. “Biggest flight of seekers in decavorn. And Starscream got there first. He always was the fastest. But Thundercracker and me were right behind him.”

He looks up then, finally meets Bluestreak’s optics. “I don’t think I need to tell you of all people what we came home to.”

Bluestreak shakes his head. No. No, he doesn’t. Bluestreak can vividly remember.

“Word came fairly fast that it had happened because Praxus sold us out to the Senate,” Skywarp continues. “At the time, we didn’t stop to contemplate the technicalities of it. Or whether it was even true or not. Megatron was all too happy to authorize a hit on Praxus without figuring things out first, so… Well, you know what happened.”

Yeah. He does.

“Here’s what you don’t know.” Skywarp’s tone evens out again, distant and low. “I was crying the whole time. So was TC, for that matter. I don’t know about Star – he was ranting at Megatron, which is a coping technique by itself, I guess. We dropped the bombs and shot down the buildings, because it was what we were told to do, and because the pain isn’t so bad when you’re destroying things. But in our minds we saw Vos, shattered and burning, and we saw the dead sparklings and younglings and civilians we’d left behind to go to war. And we felt guilty. Because if we hadn’t left, we could have defended it.” He dims his optics. “Some part of me has always resented Star for that. For taking us away from Vos when we should have stayed and fought for it. But he was right, too. Because change had to happen somehow. Vos was starving as much as the rest of Cybertron. We did what we had to to survive, to help our city survive.”

This grief, Bluestreak can relate to. Enough that he reaches out and rests a hand on Skywarp’s shoulder.

“Here’s the thing about today.” Skywarp leans into the touch almost imperceptibly. “Star was ranting about Vos, about whose fault it was, like it had all happened yesterday. And I remember agreeing with those sentiments once. But I’m so tired of it all now. I don’t want to be that anymore. I don’t want to be me anymore. And I didn’t know how to handle it. I just wanted to forget.”

“And then you came here having asked for just that, and I refused you.”

“You were right to.” Skywarp’s hand comes up to cover Bluestreak’s. “It wouldn’t have been the right thing, today. And that might explain why I snapped, but it doesn’t excuse it. And I…” He sighs, tilts his head until it’s resting against their joined hands. “I don’t ever want to see that look on your face again. The look I put there when I loomed over you like that.” He sighed. “I can’t promise I won’t explode. But I can say that I’ll do my damned best to never do that again.”

Not as good as he’d been hoping for. But Bluestreak knows better than most how difficult it can be to get rid of those demons on your shoulders.

“Want to know something?” he said, keeping his tone conversational. Skywarp looked up at him expectantly. “Earlier today, you freaked me out. But it was what you were doing then and there that did it. Your actions. Not your frametype.” He runs a hand along Skywarp’s wing. “Not even when you loomed over me like that.”

The tension seems to leave Skywarp all at once, and he goes limp. His head drops onto Bluestreak’s knee. “That’s good. Really good. That means I didn’t ruin everything.”

“You didn’t. Not everything.” Bluestreak risks a small smile. “And I do understand. How you feel. I’ve been carrying the weight of Praxus for years.” He rolls his shoulders like he can still feel it. Part of him can.

“We make a fine pair, don’t we? Equally damaged.”

“Yeah. Equally damaged.”

“You’re not kicking me out?” Skywarp looks up, meets his optics again.

“No. I’m not kicking you out.” Bluestreak stands up, stretches. He feels lighter, somehow. “I am going to the wash rack, though. I’m all dirty. Why don’t you get us some fuel in the mean time? And then I’m in need of some serious recharge after.” He hesitates before meeting the seeker’s optics. “You’re welcome to stay, if you want. Recharge with me.”

Skywarp looks as relieved as Bluestreak feels. His smile is small, but it’s genuine. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

 

Thankfully, Bluestreak’s off shift. And Skywarp’s only working part-time because of Starscream. So there’s no one stopping them from recharging until well into the afternoon.

Well, no one but the long queue of messages demanding Bluestreak’s attention.

He answers Prowl, Jazz and Blaster with a quick ‘I’m okay, just handling something, am at home and okay’ and Arcee with a ‘Pit, girl, you’d be the first to know if I did that. No, I’m okay, just busy’ and dismisses the rest. Then he cuddles close to his seeker again.

He can’t quite understand how he got from walking out on Skywarp yesterday to recharging with the seeker in his arms today. But maybe that’s just how relationships work.

He thinks about that for a few moments, then shoots off another message to Jazz about it. The resulting ‘Don’t worry about it. If you’re fine it’s fine, if he hurts you I’ll dismantle him’ is weirdly reassuring.

“Why aren’t you recharging?” Skywarp grumbles. “It’s not time to get up yet.”

“People are nagging me,” Bluestreak replies. “You can recharge some more, if you want.”

Skywarp rolls over until he’s on his stomach and out of Bluestreak’s arms. “Nah. I’m too awake now.” He stretches, wings trembling slightly. “Want fuel?”

“Please.”

He watches as Skywarp stands up and stretches again before vanishing. A faint thump from the other room heralds where he’s gone.

Skywarp’s never teleported inside with him around before.

Bluestreak opens his comm.

::Bluestreak? Are you alright?::

::Hey, Blast Off. I’m okay. Everyone’s asked me that, what’s going on?::

::You tell me. No one could get to either you or Skywarp yesterday. We got worried.::

::…oh. Yeah. We had a bit of a disagreement yesterday. I think it’s taken care of and we’ve cleared the air some.::

::That’s good. Tell me if I can help, okay?::

::Kind of why I’m calling.::

Blast Off chuckles. ::Fair enough. What do you need?::

::Skywarp’s not okay. He wasn’t yesterday either, which is what caused everything, but he’s still not. I wondered if it’s possible to do a scene where I focus on him, not the other way around?::

::You’re always focused on him in a scene,:: Blast Off replies. He sounds a bit confused.

::Yeah, I know, but… Like, see, say I just wanted to get him to relax. I don’t really want to him to do anything for me.::

::Ah. Yes, I understand.:: There’s a pause. ::I think it’s time for you to test out Skywarp’s polishing skills.::

::But then he’s doing something for me. Which is what I don’t want.:: Now it’s Bluestreak’s turn to be confused.

::Hear me out. You say you want him to calm down, to relax? The best way to do that is to let him focus on you. Starting a scene where you pamper him won’t do him any good in that respect – at worst, it’ll leave him even more confused. You say what happened yesterday was because he wasn’t okay?::

::Yeah. Kind of.::

::So he probably feels guilty about that. Him surrendering to you, pampering you, is a way for him to atone for that. And I don’t care if you don’t feel like he needs to atone – he feels like he needs to, so if you want to help him you’ll let him do that. And a polish isn’t too much to ask of anyone, is it? You’ve certainly asked more of Skywarp before.::

::… fair enough. If you think it’ll work.::¨

::I’m fairly sure it will. And it you still want to pamper him, there’s always the aftercare. Okay?::

::Yeah. Thanks, Blast Off.::

::Anytime, Blue. I’m glad you two are working it out.::

Bluestreak ends the call as Skywarp comes back, walking this time. He puts the tray he brought with him down on Bluestreak’s bed.

On it, there’s two small energon cubes. And the large bowl of treats Bluestreak had prepped yesterday.

Skywarp sits down on the floor and looks up at Bluestreak with what can only be called pleading optics.

Slag.

He sends off a quick message to Blast Off: ‘hey I think he wants me to hand-feed him is that okay’.

The response is immediate, which is a relief. ‘That’s fine too, if you feel ready for that. Mind that he tends to go deep when hand-fed, so you’ll have to bring him out of it afterwards. Feed him, then pamper him. I’m available if you need me. I have every confidence that you’ll do fine.’

And right on its heels: ‘And congratulations, looks like you got what you wanted anyway!’

Damned smug shuttleformer.

Skywarp is still looking up at him.

_Oh, all right then._ Besides, it’s not like Bluestreak hasn’t wanted to try this out anyhow.

“Get ready,” Bluestreak says softly. The smile that splits Skywarp’s face is almost angelic.

Bluestreak stands and walks over to where he keeps the collar. They don’t always use it, but today feels like a day where it might be appreciated. When he turns back, Skywarp’s wings are lowered slightly, and for the first time since he came over the day before they’re calm. No intense vibrating, no tremors.

“I’m ready, sir,” Skywarp murmurs.

“Good pet.”

Skywarp shivers slightly as the collar is fastened. “Thank you, sir. For collaring me.”

“Oh, you will earn it.” Bluestreak sits down on the bed again and picks up a treat, holding it up for Skywarp to see. “Now. Open your mouth, pet.”

Skywarp’s optics dart from the treat to Bluestreak’s face and back. He opens his mouth obediently.

“That’s my good pet,” Bluestreak murmurs. He lets the treat glide along Skywarp’s lips for a moment before letting it fall into his open mouth. “I got these for you. You will tell me if you like them.”

Skywarp closes his mouth and chews. His optics are fixed on Bluestreak’s.

“Good?” Bluestreak asks, his finger rubbing across Skywarp’s lower lip.

“Yes, sir,” Skywarp manages. He’s leaning ever so imperceptibly against Bluestreak’s knees.

Bluestreak picks up another treat. “Really? Let me try one.” He pops the small ball into his mouth and bites down upon it. The sweetness inside is perfectly balanced with the tart shell. “Oh yes, very good.”

He chooses another, presses it against Skywarp’s lips before putting it in his mouth. The seeker’s optics dim slightly as he chews.

It’s everything Bluestreak had anticipated. In the vague, uncertain terms that he had anticipated anything.

“Come up here, pet. Sit on the berth for me.” Best get Skywarp off the floor before he goes too deep. Bluestreak’s kind of nervous about that, since it’s another thing they haven’t done together yet. Blast Off being on call helps a bit – it’s comforting to know that he’s got someone to ask if he needs it, and that Blast Off has enough faith in him to let them do this without him there.

Skywarp’s already sluggish, moving slow as he climbs up on the berth. He settles next to Bluestreak, looking at him with those half-dimmed optics. Placing everything he is in Bluestreak’s hands, to do with as he sees fit.

It’s awe-inspiring, being the recipient of so much trust and faith. He just hopes he doesn’t screw it up.

“That’s my pet,” Bluestreak praises, the corner of his optic catching the mild tremor of Skywarp’s wings at the words. He holds up another treat. “Open.”

This time, the treat goes directly on Skywarp’s glossa. “Let it melt, pet. Don’t bite into it.” When Skywarp closes his mouth, Bluestreak cradles his chin, thumb caressing Skywarp’s lower lip. Skywarp makes a small noise and pushes into the touch.

“So good, pet. You’re so beautiful.” He raises another treat to those lips and slips it inside when Skywarp opens his mouth. A few drops of the melted center of the last one slips out, and Bluestreak rubs them away with his thumb.

Skywarp’s optics dim all the way. His head is resting fully in Bluestreak’s hand.

Slowly, carefully, Bluestreak guides the seeker to lean against him. Skywarp lets him direct his frame, moving with Bluestreak’s every touch.

When he’s finally in Bluestreak’s lap, sitting sideways with his wings stretched behind him, Bluestreak pulls the bowl closer and leans back against the wall. This way, he gets to absorb every nuance of Skywarp’s expression.

Skywarp’s mouth opens, and Bluestreak places another treat on his tongue. He’s not sure who’s in charge of whom, at this point. He doesn’t think he could stop now if he tried. “That’s my good pet.”

Skywarp doesn’t reply, just hums against the tips of Bluestreak’s fingers. He’s heavy against Bluestreak’s frame, every cable relaxed, only his jaw working as he chews the treat. Bluestreak takes the opportunity to ready another one, slipping it into Skywarp’s mouth when the seeker’s lips slip open.

He still doesn’t say anything.

::Blast Off, he’s all quiet.::

::Yes, he tends to go non-verbal in feeding scenes. Don’t worry about it, but know that it does put more responsibility on you. Mind what you do to him when he’s like that.::

Bluestreak sends an affirming ping without taking his focus off Skywarp. The seeker’s chewing slowly, his jaw barely moving. He opens his mouth for another treat.

This time, Bluestreak’s in serious doubt on whether he should give it to him or not. Skywarp doesn’t seem self-aware at all. He can’t use a safeword like this either, which means Bluestreak has to be really observant and take all his cues from what is now very limited body language.

Skywarp makes a small noise in the back of his throat, and Bluestreak’s fingers are instantly at his lips again, slipping in another treat.

Well. Guess that shows who’s really controlling things.

But now Skywarp isn’t chewing. His mouth isn’t closed all the way either, letting some of the melting treat seep out.

“Close your mouth, pet.” Bluestreak takes care to keep his voice soft and commanding. He pushes at Skywarp’s jaw gently until it closes.

“Good. And chew.” He can’t just let the treat melt in Skywarp’s mouth at this point, who knows where it would trickle. Skywarp getting the sticky liquid into his air intakes wouldn’t be a good thing. “And swallow. There’s my good pet.”

Definitely no more treats now.

But Skywarp’s still resting against him, still heavy and warm against his frame. Completely and totally peaceful, but completely and totally out of it, too.

And Bluestreak hasn’t learned how to bring him back.

So he talks. Talking’s something Bluestreak’s really good at, and maybe it’ll work.

He sticks to mindless praise, compliments. He doesn’t think too much about what he says, just minds that he keeps his tone calm and soothing and that he doesn’t talk about things that can trigger Skywarp. If he didn’t see the faint smile and feel the thrum of systems not-quite-awake, he would have thought the seeker was in deep recharge.

Slowly, carefully, he reaches for the box of cleaning supplies next to the berth. Grateful that he’s taken to keeping it there instead of in the wash rack. There’s a soft chamois inside, earth-produced, that will feel good across Skywarp’s frame right now. Maybe it’ll bring him back some.

He slides the cloth across the plating of one thigh. Stays well away from sensitive seams – that’s not what this is about. And it’s not like Skywarp’s truly dirty or even dusty, not more than any of them are when they come out of recharge. This is just for the comfort.

Just for the pampering.

He switches between watching what he’s doing and watching Skywarp’s face. Runs the cloth down one leg, then the other. Over the closest arm, what he can reach of it, then the other one. Gently rubbing down Skywarp’s abdomen.

When he gets to Skywarp’s face, soft cloth touching his cheek, Skywarp’s optics finally brighten slightly. Bluestreak keeps doing what he’s doing, the soft praise, the soothing touches, as the seeker – his seeker – blinks and licks his lips.

“Back with me, pet?”

The answering “Yes, sir” is so faint that if Bluestreak hadn’t listened for it, he wouldn’t have heard it. He keeps rubbing the cloth over Skywarp’s plating, a bit more forcefully now. He can feel Skywarp’s systems powering back up to full function, then the seeker takes a deep in-vent and sighs.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, pet.” Bluestreak lifts a hand and clicks open the collar. “We’ll end it here.”

No sooner is the collar off and put to the side than Skywarp’s arms are around him, pulling him down to lie flat on the berth.

“That was so good,” he purrs, and now there’s a definite happy cast to his voice. “I don’t think you know how much I needed that. Pit, _I_ didn’t even know how much I needed that.”

“I’m glad it helped,” Bluestreak replies, letting his arms settle around the warm seeker. “I didn’t really know what to do when you went deep like that.”

“You were perfect.” Skywarp nuzzles his cheek. “I’m so happy you decided to try this out. To try us out.”

“Despite everything, so am I.” Bluestreak ducks his head so he can reach the seeker’s mouth.

Kissing Skywarp will never, ever grow old.

They settle like that, tangled together. Skywarp feels overly warm and content, and Bluestreak is almost surprised to realize that he feels like that too – like Skywarp is grounding him, offering him a connection to the moment that he’d been missing.

It’s good. It’s very, very good.

He sends a quick message to Blast Off, letting him know that everything is okay. Then he dims his optics.

It’s very comfortable, lying here with Skywarp like this. The seeker’s already drifting off.

Bluestreak smiles as he feels his own systems begin to cool down. It’s getting late afternoon anyway. They can both do with some more recharge.

Whatever else they have to handle can wait until tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey, Skywarp?”

“Mmm?”

“Want me to come with you when you visit Star next time?”

The seeker rustles closer, head pillowed on Bluestreak’s shoulder. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He’s not all there most of the time, and you still have an Autobot logo on your chest.”

“That’s true. I didn’t think of that.”

For a few minutes, they lie there in silence. But Bluestreak isn’t satisfied yet.

“Sky? If I can’t come with you… Maybe let me know when you’re going to visit him next time? So I can be there for you afterward. If you want.”

Skywarp sighs, arms tightening around Bluestreak’s torso. “That would be amazing. It’s… hard, visiting him.”

“Then we’ll do that.” He kisses his seeker’s helm. “Just tell me, and I’ll clear time for whatever you need.”

“I just need you.” Skywarp burrows even closer, like he’s trying to settle underneath Bluestreak’s plating. “You have no idea how much I appreciate having you, Blue.”

Bluestreak doesn’t quite know what to say to that. So he just kisses his seeker’s head again and holds him close until he drifts back into recharge.

 

Days turn to weeks turn to months.

For their seventh date Skywarp takes Bluestreak flying, which is more than enough to remind Bluestreak of how closely related Praxians and Vosians are. Clinging to Skywarp’s broad chassis and watching Cybertron pass beneath him is a new type of exhilarating that he’s never experienced before.

The seeker shadow on the ground doesn’t even faze him.

::Trines bond in the air,:: Skywarp says wistfully. ::I trinebonded to TC and Star over the mountains behind Vos.::

::Sparkbond in the air? How’s that even possible?:: Bluestreak wonders. ::Don’t you lose focus and fall?::

::Our systems are calibrated to handle all sorts of interface in the air,:: Skywarp replies, dipping one wing slightly to turn them towards where Iacon used to be. ::I knew a seeker who had a sparkling while flying, even. We don’t fall unless we’re injured somehow.::

::You’re all insane,:: Bluestreak teases, while contemplating the technicalities of interfacing in the air. And whether it will make a difference if only one of the participants can actually fly.

Their twelfth date (not that Bluestreak’s counting) isn’t a date. It’s a sparring match. Bluestreak can tell from Skywarp’s expression how much it means that he’s comfortable enough to mock-fight and laugh about it. Ironhide and Chromia are strict but not mean, treating Skywarp with the same care they would any other bot. Bluestreak takes more comfort in that than he knows how to say.

After two months, Bluestreak is officially introduced to Thundercracker. The blue seeker is slow to smile and even slower to laugh, but there’s a hidden strength and care in him that Bluestreak hadn’t anticipated and finds himself kind of liking. And the way Skywarp just grabs Bluestreak when Thundercracker’s left, pulling him close and purring into his neck, tells him everything he needs to know about how that meeting went.

It makes him even more nervous about introducing Skywarp to Prowl.

Not that Prowl’s as bad as some mechs say. Bluestreak can testify to how nice he actually is. But the Decepticons… All they’ve ever seen is the stone-cold tactician.

Prowl smiles, though, when Bluestreak and Skywarp walk in. And he stands up, grasps Skywarp’s forearm like he’s been introduced to Decepticons all his functioning. Jazz is less restrained, of course he is, and the lewd jokes make their appearance all of three minutes in. Skywarp gives as good as he gets, to Jazz’s unbridled amusement. Bluestreak can just sit back and relax.

It’s weird how happy he feels these days.

 

On the three-month anniversary of their first date (and Bluestreak isn’t counting, really he isn’t) Bluestreak comes home to a large box on his front step. For a moment, he considers shooting at it – if it’s something meant to blow up, better that it does so without him standing right next to it.

But there’s supposedly peace now. And he would be a really stupid target anyway.

On the top of the box, there’s a note.

_Bluestreak,_

_Congratulations on getting this far. I think you’ll need this from here on out._

_Blast Off_

Well, slag.

There’s a familiar sound of thrusters behind him, and he revels in the fact that his threat protocols stay dormant. He doesn’t even flinch when Skywarp’s hand lands on his shoulder.

“Hey, babe. What’s that?”

Bluestreak hands him the note. “Looks like Blast Off left us a care package.” He smirks up at his lover. “Know anything about it?”

Skywarp shakes his head, a mischievous grin on his lips. “It’s news to me. But if I know Blast Off right, you don’t want to open that out here.”

“Oh, _really_?” Bluestreak grinned. “Well, let’s take it inside, then.”

He opens the door, letting Skywarp bring in the box and drop it on the table while he gets them energon. At this point he’s had his allotment increased, since Skywarp spends almost more time in Bluestreak’s modest apartment than he does in the loft he technically shares with Thundercracker and Starscream. At times, Bluestreak worries that the blue seeker’s lonely – it can’t be easy having one trinemate isolated with a psychotic break and the other spending almost all his time with a new lover. He’s been thinking about talking to Skywarp about it, but his seeker’s been so happy lately, and Bluestreak is afraid of jinxing it by talking about Thundercracker.

Maybe a chance will present itself eventually.

“All right, then.” He sits down, hands one cube to Skywarp. “Let’s see what your old dominant thinks we need.”

The lid comes off the box easily enough. Underneath, there’s a layer of fabric that Skywarp folds back, revealing the contents.

“Well, frag me,” Skywarp breathes.

Bluestreak stares. “I think that’s the point he’s trying to make.”

The box is full of toys. There are cuffs, both braided metal and stasis ones. Ropes and chains in a variety of materials and thicknesses. At least five different whips and canes, two of which has several tails. Blindfolds, gags, collars, masks. Even something that looks like an electroprod.

Underneath the bondage gear, there are toys that are less easy to identify but promises no less fun. Flat metal squares that vibrate on different frequencies, which Skywarp explains are meant to affix to the inside of a port cover to tease the plug and port without actually connecting. Long strips that fit in seams between plating, sending small shocks through to hidden sensors. Small, teasing vibrators meant to attach to sensor-rich surfaces like wings – or chevrons – driving up the charge. Splitters. Charge mirrors. Loop generators.

There are toys in there Bluestreak doesn’t even know how to operate.

“Have you really tried all of this before?”

“No. But Blast Off has.” Skywarp winks at him. “You didn’t think I was his only submissive, did you?”

Bluestreak shrugs. He hasn’t really considered one way or the other, and besides, Blast Off’s interfacing life is not really what he wants to be thinking about right now.

He picks up one of the whips. It’s solid and unyielding in his hand, and he really doesn’t like the implications of it. “I’m going to tell you right now. I don’t think I can hurt you. Even if you like it.”

Skywarp shrugs. “That’s fair. I do enjoy some of it, but… This whole thing isn’t enjoyable unless we both like it, you know? So if you don’t want to try pain play, we don’t try pain play. I haven’t really missed it. Though, truth be told…” He reaches for one of the other canes, a slim piece with long, trailing whips that Bluestreak had been avoiding looking at. “Some of these are good for teasing, too. Those strands feel amazing in sensation play.”

“Why do you like it, anyway? The pain?” Bluestreak is genuinely curious. They haven’t really talked about this before.

“It’s…” Skywarp puts the cane back and grabs something that looks more like whip. “It’s not necessarily the pain itself. It’s the way it puts my sensors on edge, how I don’t know what will happen next. It’s the way it racks up the sensitivity, lets me react to even the smallest touches. It’s the pleasure it causes.” He returns the whip to the box and looks at Bluestreak, an earnest look on his face. “But I meant it when I said we wouldn’t do it if you don’t want to. If you’re not comfortable with something, we don’t do it.”

Bluestreak sighs, looking down at the whip in his hand. “I’m not comfortable with it because I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. I’m afraid I’ll lose control and I’ll hurt you.”

“Hey.” Skywarp’s hands close over his. “It’s okay. If you want, we can work on that feeling. I saw one switch in here that’ll break if you try to hit hard enough to hurt. If you don’t want to, we can just do something else.” He nods towards the box. “Besides, the sensation play’s fun, if you want to try that. I think you’d like it – it’s kind of like what we did that first time, at Blaster’s place, only with me blindfolded.”

Bluestreak puts the whip down and looks at Skywarp. “You’d trust me to blindfold you?”

Skywarp gives him a slight smile. “Blue, at this point, I trust you with pretty much everything.”

Wow. That’s a huge show of trust.

Skywarp pushes the box away and snuggles up against Bluestreak’s side. “On that note, I’m ready to renegotiate our hard limits. If you want.” He glances up at Bluestreak’s optics. “We’ve come quite a way since we first started this.”

Hesitantly, Bluestreak puts his arms around Skywarp’s shoulders. He leans back against the cushions, pulling Skywarp with him until they’re almost vertical. “If you want to. For my part…” He thinks back, trying to remember what he’d said that first time, what still applies now that he knows what to expect out of their scenes and also knows Skywarp a lot better. “Well. I’m not comfortable hurting you, as I said.” He more feels than sees Skywarp nod. “But I’m not afraid of having you behind my back anymore.” As several polishing sessions and massages had proved, Skywarp is just as skilled in those areas as Blast Off had promised. “I’d still like it if you didn’t try to startle me. You’ve been really nice about that so far.” He tweaks Skywarp’s wingtip playfully. “Interfacing… We kind of did that several times already. So I’m game for that if you are. No sparks in-scene, though.”

“No sparks in-scene,” Skywarp agrees easily. “That’s for when we’re equals. If you want. At some point.” He turns his head and kisses Bluestreak’s chest, and Bluestreak’s fairly confident that he didn’t choose the plating over his spark at random.

Spark merging…

Maybe. At some point.

“I still don’t want to be humiliated,” Skywarp continues, and now his tone is firm. “No derogatory comments, no debasing nick names.” He lifts his head so Bluestreak can see him smiling. “I really like what you’re doing, though. All the praise and compliments. It makes me all warm inside.”

“It’s just the truth,” Bluestreak murmurs. “You really are gorgeous, Sky.”

He’s treated to the rare sight of Skywarp blushing. It does interesting things to his core temperature. And his spark.

Not that he doubts that he’s falling for Skywarp anymore. He’s way too invested at this point not to see the writing on the wall.

Skywarp’s cheeks are still dusted with pink. His optics are bright.

Bluestreak just wants to _touch_.

And maybe tease a bit. Tickle those sensitive seams. Run his glossa over the hot plating and suck on those neck cables. Drive his fingers into the wider gaps and see if he can hit the protoform.

Okay. Maybe the box is a hint.

“Hey, Sky - you fully fueled?”

“Fueled enough.” Skywarp’s smile brightens. “You thinking what I hope you’re thinking?”

Bluestreak can’t not smile back. “That depends. Were you thinking about that blindfold in the box, and the chains that’ll tie your wrists to your ankles?”

Skywarp’s fans click on. “Oh _pit_ , yes.”

 

Bluestreak examines his handiwork. Skywarp is kneeling on the mat, knees spread, aft resting back against his thrusters. Arms behind his back, wrists shackled to his ankles, and his wings are locked back with a different leash, with teasing strips of vibrating metal affixed to the leading edges. He’s blindfolded, with a black fabric of some sort tied across his optics, but not gagged.

Bluestreak wants to hear him.

He circles his seeker slowly, drinking in the sight. Skywarp’s _stunning_. “Comfortable, pet?”

“Yes, sir.” Skywarp’s already panting lightly, faint tremors running over his plating.

“Good.” He picks up another of the long vibrator strips, and the cane with the trailing whips that Skywarp pointed out. The long strands are really soft and supple. “Now, let me know if that changes.”

He trails the soft strands across Skywarp’s wings, reveling in the quiet gasps the action produces. As he circles, he keeps the strands barely touching Skywarp’s plating, just teasing him. He’s close enough to feel the hot air blasting from Skywarp’s vents.

When he gets to his seeker’s front again, Bluestreak kneels down on the thick mat. He takes care to keep his legs away from Skywarp’s, though – the whole point of the blindfold is for the seeker to not know what’s going to happen, and Bluestreak doesn’t want him to know he’s sitting in front of him. Not yet, anyway.

Not that there’s any way to keep that hidden when he gives in to temptation and leans over to lick a broad stripe over Skywarp’s cockpit. The sound coming from Skywarp’s vocalizer is a cross between a whimper and a moan.

Bluestreak wants more of it.

He slides back until he’s got room to lie down on his front, his head between Skywarp’s thighs. They’re spread apart, pulled by the chains and shackles, widening the tantalizing gaps between thigh and hip.

Just wide enough for the metal vibration strip. Or an eager glossa.

Skywarp’s moan sends shivers across Bluestreak’s doorwings.

“Easy, pet,” he murmurs as he begins teasing the strip into the gap. “Hold completely still.”

“Yes, sir,” Skywarp gasps.

Bluestreak smiles as the strip is magnetized onto Skywarp’s cables. He can tell the moment it activates, triggered by the charge already running rampant in his seeker – Skywarp keens and arches, conveniently tilting his pelvic seams closer to Bluestreak’s mouth.

He’s not one to say no to a prize like that.

He can taste Skywarp’s charge on his glossa. It’s delightfully tingly, triggering rarely used sensors inside his mouth and driving his own charge higher.

“Sir,” Skywarp whimpers. “Sir, please, so good, please…!”

“Mm?” He pulls back from the tempting, open gap. “Close, are you?”

“Please, sir, please, oh please just…”

Skywarp, typically enough, doesn’t really use his words. But when his port cover slides open, Bluestreak figures it’s enough of a plea to make sense of.

Bluestreak sits up, trailing the strands of the whip across Skywarp’s legs in the process. “You want my plug, do you, pet? You want to feel the charge, to show me how good it feels?”

Skywarp nods frantically. His plug is practically glowing.

“I can see how much you’re enjoying yourself,” Bluestreak murmurs. “Maybe you have earned the connection.”

“Please, sir, please, please, it’s so good, please…!”

Bluestreak would be lying if he said he doesn’t find Skywarp tempting as all pit. His seeker’s all but vibrating, the metal strips driving him past coherence, sparks already flashing in his seams. Skywarp’s beautiful, amazing, and Bluestreak wants him to know exactly what kind of effect he has on him.

The click as he connects is almost inaudible, but the effect is massive. Skywarp tenses, turbines spinning faster, thrusters firing up and shutting down just as fast. And when Bluestreak tugs at Skywarp’s plug, gently connecting it to his own port…

He forgets where he is for a second, the pleasure is so intense. Distantly, he can hear himself moaning.

“Sir!” Skywarp is keening loudly. “Going to overload, sir!”

“Give me your charge,” Bluestreak manages. “Come on, pet, give me all you’ve got.”

Skywarp trembles in his arms, sparks cascading over his frame, optics whiting out. The wave of charge hitting Bluestreak through their connection is all-encompassing, setting off half his sensors at once and leaving him tingling and weightless.

And still, Skywarp hasn’t overloaded. He’s babbling mindlessly, barely seems aware of where he is, begging and pleading and moaning.

He’s so close, Bluestreak can literally feel it.

He steels himself slightly, trying to resist the charge driving sparks across his own plating. He’s still responsible for Skywarp’s well-being. Still has to detach the vibrating strips spread over his plating. Still has to unchain him.

He pulls at the charge, lets it build, then transfers it all across the connection in one strong push.

Skywarp screams, ramrod-straight in Bluestreak’s arms. His optics white out completely, and the charge cresting across his frame is bright enough that Bluestreak has to shield his own optics.

For an endless few seconds Skywarp is all vibrant charge and hot metal, tingling and burning Bluestreak’s frame wherever they’re in contact. Bluestreak barely notices his own overload, he’s too wrapped up in Skywarp’s – their charge melds, they’re both scorching hot, it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Until Skywarp drops forward as if he’s a puppet with cut bonds, letting Bluestreak take all his weight.

Bluestreak’s hands are shaking as badly as the rest of him. He manages to detach the strip in Skywarp’s hip joint – now that the charge’s dissipated, the strip’s shut down on its own, but it’s not going to be comfortable to leave it in there. That done, he loosens the clip on the chain that holds Skywarp’s wrists to his ankles. That lets him lower the seeker gently down to lie on his front on the floor.

He’s extra happy about the thick, soft mat now.

Somehow, despite the post-overload hazy weakness, he manages to remove both wing strips and all the chain and shackles. He soaks a cloth in warm solvent, drags it across Skywarp’s wings, back and legs. Takes extra care to rub any tension out of the wrists and ankles.

When Skywarp wakes up again, it’s a gradual thing. A slight twitch of wings. A faint frown. His optics brighten slowly, and for a moment he wears this look of utter confusion that has no business looking as adorable as it does. Then he recognizes Bluestreak and smiles lazily.

“Hey, hot stuff.”

Bluestreak snorts a laugh. “Guess I knocked some connections loose in that processor of yours.”

Skywarp turns and stretches. “Maybe. But if you did, you’re welcome to do it again anytime.”

“I’ll remember that.” He offers Skywarp a hand. “Feel like recharging on a berth instead of the floor? There’s room next to me.” He winks. “I’ll even get you some energon.”

Skywarp takes his hand and pulls himself to his pedes. “I might take you up on that. Will there be cuddles?”

Bluestreak laughs. “It’s mandatory.”

“Awesome.” Skywarp drops into the berth face-first before turning and opening his arms. “Come join me?”

“Give me a moment. I promised you fuel.” He leans down and kisses Skywarp’s forehead. “I’ll be fast, I promise.”

Skywarp grins up at him. “I’ll do you one better.”

Then he vanishes. “Want it warm?” he calls from the next room.

“Nah, just get back here!” Bluestreak calls back. “My berth’s all lonesome!”

A faint _vop_ heralds Skywarp’s arrival, and an energon cube is thrust towards Bluestreak’s face. Skywarp’s grin is mischievous. “Told ya I’d do you one better. Now drink up and get down here.”

Bluestreak is only too happy to oblige. He snuggles in against Skywarp’s chest, head pillowed on his arm and doorwings resting against the berth surface behind him. It’s warm, and comfortable, and their legs are tangled together, and he can feel Skywarp’s ex-vents against his plating.

It’s very close to perfect. And Bluestreak is kind of scared to examine that thought too closely.

“Can I stay here tomorrow?” Skywarp mumbles. “TC’s having some kind of meeting at our place, and I don’t want to disturb. It’s work-related, he said.”

“Sure. Stay here as long as you like.”

He won’t look too closely on that thought either. But he’s warm, and he’s comfortable, and Skywarp is holding him close and nuzzling his chevron, and there’s not much if anything he’d like to change.

He’ll recharge easy on that. At least for tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

Bluestreak can barely lift his pedes. He feels rooted to the surface of the planet, and not in a good way – it’s like he has to drag his legs free, like every step takes an age.

He is so, so exhausted.

It takes him an eternity to walk from the shuttle pad to his own place. When he finally gets to his front door, his hand is trembling so badly when he tries to input his code that he has to try again. And again. And _again_.

He’s close to screaming in frustration when a dark hand moves past his own, inputting the code perfectly.

Thank Primus he’s given Skywarp the door code. He almost sobs with relief when the door opens.

“Let’s get you inside.” Skywarp’s voice is soft. “You look like you’re dead on your feet.”

“Feels like it,” Bluestreak mumbles. He lets Skywarp take his arm, guide him in. He doesn’t pay any attention to where he’s going, content to let himself be led. By the time he gets to the berth, his optics are almost closed, and he trusts Skywarp to direct his movements as he sits down.

“Stay there. I’m going to get you some energon.”

Bluestreak does as he’s told. It’s not exactly hard. He couldn’t muster the strength to object if he had to.

He pulls his legs up on the berth as well, stretching. He really does need to clean up – now he’s dragging all the dust and dirt onto the berth - but there’s no way he’s getting back up to handle that. He simply doesn’t have the energy.

He doesn’t notice Skywarp’s return until the rim of a cube is pressed against his lips. “Drink up. Then we’ll see about getting you clean.”

Bluestreak downs the energon, though he’s not really running low. The exhaustion is mostly in his mind. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” The berth dips as Skywarp sits down. “Want to tell me what happened? Weren’t you just supposed to clean out one of Wheeljack’s old labs today?”

“Yeah. We did. Got everything done as we were supposed to, with some time to spare even, and were on our way home.” Bluestreak dims his optics again, moves his head until he’s resting against Skywarp’s leg. “But then one of the other scavenging teams found an entire room full of intact medical equipment, and their shuttle was already full, so we had to swing back and carry the surplus.” He hides his face against Skywarp’s plating. “I had to help clean out what was left of Praxus Medical Center.”

Almost as if the words are permission, all his pent up emotions, all the chaos he’s suppressed in his mind, all the pain, it all bubbles to the surface. He hears the soft keening before he realizes he’s the one making the noise.

“Shh,” Skywarp croons, pulling him close and stroking his doorwings with what has become expert touches over the last few months. “Easy, babe. I’ve got you.”

He cradles Bluestreak until the keens soften into quiet sobbing. It’s a little embarrassing, if Bluestreak is being perfectly honest with himself – and he’s already breaking down, so why not be completely honest at this point. But at the same time, being held like this, being cared for; it feels so good, better than he’s felt in a long time. He feels completely safe even as he’s falling to pieces, and how ironic is that? That he’d seek solace for Praxus in the arms of a seeker?

“I didn’t think anything in Praxus was still intact,” Skywarp says softly, and somehow, it’s not offensive or hurtful. “Didn’t the Autobots clean out what they could?”

“What they could,” Bluestreak mumbles. “We... They… There were too many. Too much. Most of Praxus Medical… A few well-placed explosives brought the rest of it down. Turned it into a grave of sorts. Apparently they missed a chamber.” He pulls himself further into Skywarp’s lap, one arm around his waist. “It was in the sublevels under the youth ward. We had to dig our way through.”

“Oh, Primus. Blue, I’m so sorry.” Those pets pick up again. “I’m so sorry you had to do that.”

It feels so nice to be sheltered like this.

“We had to dig our way through.” The repeated words are almost silent. “And… There were rooms. Full of people. They’d tried – they’d tried to get to safety. Hiding under berths. In doorways. Injured. Medics. Sparkli-“ His vocalizer fails. He shudders and tries again. “Sparklings shielded by their creators. All grey. All gone.” He tilts his head so he can look up at Skywarp. “I know I promised you we’d set up a scene when I got back from the supply run. But I… I can’t be in control tonight. I just can’t.”

“It’s fine,” Skywarp sooths. “Don’t think about it.”

Bluestreak can’t let it go that easily, though. “No, I’m sorry. I had this whole thing planned, too – I thought maybe I’d tie you up proper this time, test that cane you say can’t hurt.” He doesn’t miss the telltale shiver through Skywarp’s frame, and feels even worse for it. “But now – I can’t use that on you now. I don’t trust myself with it.” He dims his optics and turns his face away. “If you want… You could… talk to Blast Off, I guess. I’m sure he’ll be happy to put something together for you.”

The words hurt a lot more to say than he had thought they would.

For a few seconds, Skywarp is silent. His hands never stop petting.

“I don’t think you quite get it,” he says finally. “It’s not about the scene. It’s about you. Sure, I could talk to Blast Off, but then I wouldn’t be with _you_. And that idea is really not appealing at all.” One of his hands moves away from Bluestreak’s doorwing and comes to rest on his face, cradling his jaw, thumb caressing gently. “Besides, you really think I’d leave you when you feel like this? I’m not going anywhere. You’d have to physically throw me out.”

Bluestreak presses into the touch. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be sitting here with you as long as you need me to, and then I plan to get you clean and get some more energon in you.”

“Don’t need more fuel,” Bluestreak mumbles. “Just need you.” The tension that had carried him through the trip back from Praxus and home is finally beginning to dissipate. He’d felt as though all that death and grey and cold had gotten under his plating somehow, and now it is melting away again.

“Then I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here with you, babe.”

“Lie down with me?” The words are starting to blur together, and Bluestreak can feel his systems powering down. He does notice that his frame is moved, shifted backwards and down on the berth until he’s flat on his side. Then there’s warmth in front of him, and he’s pulled back into Skywarp’s arms.

“For as long as you want,” Skywarp promises. “Now sleep, Blue. I’ll be here with you.”

Bluestreak has all manners of sappy responses to that, but they’re all just out of reach. Instead of saying anything, he snuggles closer and holds on tight.

Skywarp isn’t going anywhere.

 

He can tell it’s the middle of the night when he wakes up again. Skywarp is in recharge next to him, and a stray bit of dim starlight comes in through the window and shows the seeker’s features in gentle relief.

Bluestreak is struck by the sight.

In the faint light, Skywarp’s features are almost washed out, leaving him looking smooth and soft. His purple almost looks like it glows, while the black swallows the light, so he looks like a creature made of light and shadow. It’s ethereal, and beautiful, and Bluestreak’s fascinated.

His hand is shaking when he reaches out to touch the seeker, to make sure that he’s real. After the day Bluestreak’s had, a night terror wouldn’t be too unexpected.

His hand encounters warm plating, though, not as smooth as it looks but infinitely more solid.

Skywarp’s optics brighten slightly. He looks half in recharge still, but he lifts a hand to cover Bluestreak’s.

No one says anything. But Skywarp pushes himself up on his elbow and leans in, close enough that they share vents, and looks at Bluestreak.

_I love you_ , Bluestreak thinks, and kisses him.

It feels natural to pull Skywarp closer until he’s almost on top of Bluestreak, covering him, sheltering him, wide wings forming a cage to shield him from the world. Bluestreak feels small, and safe, and protected, and when Skywarp breaks the kiss and instead moves to mouth along Bluestreak’s jaw he tilts his head and keens softly.

Skywarp’s thumbs rub gentle, soothing circles on his cheeks. His head is cradled between strong hands, and Skywarp dots little kisses down Bluestreak’s throat cables, to the edges of his plating, across his chest.

When Skywarp’s lips press against the seam running down the center of Bluestreak’s chest, the seam cracks open.

Skywarp freezes, looks up at him. Seeking reassurance, permission, affirmation, command.

Bluestreak knows that look.

He lets his chest plates slide apart further, enough to let threads of sparklight through.

Skywarp stares at the light, mesmerized. He trails his fingers across it, teasing the small tendrils. Carefully. Almost worshipfully.

When Skywarp’s chest plates begin to open as well, Bluestreak moans and pulls him down into another kiss. It’s almost endless, soft, comforting, lacking all the urgency and need that sometimes characterize their kissing. He can feel the warmth of Skywarp’s spark on his chest.

Skywarp pulls back. Looks at him again.

Lets his chest plates open completely, bathing Bluestreak’s face in pale blue light. Then lowers himself gently, slowly, pulling Bluestreak over until they’re both on their sides, chest to chest, hips to hips, forehead to forehead.

For the first time, Bluestreak can _feel_ Skywarp. And there is so _much_ to feel.

The sheer joy and elation that is flight. The mischief. The loyalty and devotion, not just to his trinemates and to the peace, but to Bluestreak. The desperation and despair that still haunts him. The relief in letting his processor get overrun with calculations before a jump. The grief and hope and faint, cautious optimism.

Bluestreak drowns in Skywarp. And in return, he offers up everything he is.

His sense of duty. His love for his family and friends. His fears and worries and hates and sadnesses, his griefs and losses. His hopes for the future, Skywarp at their core. His faith and trust in Optimus and Prowl and Skywarp and Thundercracker and Wheeljack and Blaster and Arcee.

His love. All of it. For all of them.

He can feel it when Skywarp realizes that he’s loved too. The energy building between them suddenly grows, the heat intensifies.

_I love you._

_I love you too._

When overload hits, it’s a gentle, all-encompassing thing, pulling Bluestreak up and into Skywarp and exploding them both outward in pulsing waves. They cling to each other, rocking against each other, tremors and blue sparks dancing across their plating.

It takes an eternity to come back down. Bluestreak comes back to reality to see Skywarp’s optics gazing into his own.

No words are needed.

Skywarp smiles, beatifically, and then snuggles in against Bluestreak’s throat with a small happy meep. Within moments, his vents have evened, his frame relaxing towards recharge.

It’s a good idea. Bluestreak smiles and dims his optics.

They can talk more in the morning.

 

When Bluestreak’s optics brighten, the first thing he sees is Skywarp smiling at him.

It’s a sight he suddenly realizes he wouldn’t mind waking up to more often.

“Hey,” Skywarp murmurs. He cradles Bluestreak’s cheek with one hand. “Recharge well?”

“I did.” Bluestreak nuzzles into his palm. “I might keep you every night.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Skywarp beams at him for a moment, before his expression sobers into a thoughtful one. “Hey, stop me if you think this is a bad idea. But I’ve been thinking.”

Bluestreak can’t resist. “I don’t mind you thinking.”

“Slagger.” Skywarp grins and swats at him with one hand. “What I meant is, I had some time to think while you were recharging last night. You said you’re afraid of using a cane or anything like it on me, because you’re scared you’ll lose control.”

“Yeah,” Bluestreak sighs. “That’s about right. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you, love.”

Skywarp grins and ducks his head, almost bashful.

_I’m going to call him ‘love’ all the time if I get that reaction._

“I don’t think you’d hurt me,” Skywarp says, as firmly as someone can with their face pressed against a pillow and cheeks hot. “If I thought that for a minute, I’d never submit to you. And that’s just what had me thinking.” He visibly pulls himself together and sits back up. “What if someone else was in control?”

Bluestreak doesn’t understand, and he’s fairly sure it shows on his face. “You want someone else to beat you with a stick?”

“No.” Skywarp giggles. “No, that’s not what I’m getting at. I don’t ever want anyone but you, Blue.” Cue that furious blushing again. “But… Maybe if we both submitted. If someone else was in control, and took responsibility for your actions.”

Bluestreak’s processor finally kicks in full-speed. “You mean Blast Off.”

Skywarp shrugs, hesitant. “It’s a thought.”

“It’s not a bad one,” Bluestreak allows. He gives Skywarp a small smile – mainly to conceal how nervous the idea makes him.

Submit to Blast Off? Give Blast Off the kind of absolute trust Skywarp graces Bluestreak with?

He doesn’t know if he can do that.

“Give me a few days to think it over, yeah?” He leans in, kisses Skywarp’s helm.

“Sure.” His seeker snuggles closer, presses his face against the crook of Bluestreak’s neck. His voice is almost a mumble. “When do you have to leave?”

“I don’t. Prowl took one look at me and gave me the next few shifts off.”

“Good. Then you can stay here with me.”

“Yeah.” Bluestreak pulls him as close as he can. “Definitely.”

 

The idea won’t leave Bluestreak alone, and the more he thinks about it, the more appealing it is. He hasn’t ever considered doing anything of the like before, but then, he hadn’t exactly planned on collaring and chaining up a seeker either.

Besides, he can tell that this is something Skywarp really wants. And Bluestreak is only just beginning to realize how far he’ll go for his lover.

It takes him about three days to decide. And then another four to gather his courage and make the arrangements. All the while, Skywarp is sneaking hopeful glances at him, not quite raising the subject, not quite avoiding it either.

It’ll make for a nice surprise. At least Bluestreak hopes so.

In the day leading up to the planned scene, Bluestreak tidies and cleans his entire apartment. He’s silently wondering if the place is even big enough for Blast Off to fit, but the only alternative he can think of is Blaster’s or Skywarp’s place – and that would mean Blaster or Thundercracker present, which he’s not sure he can deal with. Just having Blast Off there is nerve-wracking enough, and he’s done scenes with Blast Off present before.

Even knowing that, he’s more nervous than he’s been for a good while.

When the berth is stacked against the wall in the storage room, the soft padding has been spread over the berth room floor, and the low bench he’s borrowed from Skyfire – bless that mech – has been set in one end of the room, Bluestreak finally allows himself a moment to vent.

It doesn’t last for long. But it gives him just enough time to calm down a bit before there’s a knock on the door.

“Blast Off,” he greets as he opens the door. “Come on in.” He tries for a bit of humor. “I hope you’ll fit.”

The shuttle-former straightens to his full height and _winks_ at Bluestreak. “I spent time on an underwater base. I’ll manage.”

It has the clearly desired effect. Bluestreak laughs as he steps aside. He can feel the tension in his shoulder cables dissipating. “Well, at worst, I guess you can crawl around on your knees.”

“Exactly.” Blast Off ducks inside. To Bluestreak’s relief, the roof isn’t so low that it forces Blast Off to his knees, but he does have to hunch over a bit. “When is Skywarp getting here?”

“In a few minutes.” Bluestreak gestures towards the bedroom. “Want to wait in there? So I can surprise him?”

“Of course.” Blast Off smiles. “I’m proud of you two, you know. You’ve come so far.”

“Um. Thanks.” Bluestreak doesn’t quite know what to say. He’s saved from having to come up with something by the beeps of someone putting in the door code. The flash of panic he feels is enough to make his doorwings rise up high and send Blast Off dashing at a crouch into the berth room.

Bluestreak just has time to turn around and face the door before Skywarp walks in, his customary smile on his face. “Hey, babe.” He pulls Bluestreak close and plants a kiss on his cheek. “I have missed you so much today, you have no idea. Survey work is ridiculously boring, even with that scatterbrained Aerialbot for company.”

“Fireflight’s okay.” Defending Fireflight’s honor is second nature – Autobot loyalty is long-lived - but it feels more like he’s defending a youngling from good-natured ribbing than protecting an Autobot from a Decepticon.

It’s so, so good to have come this far.

“He’s adorable,” Skywarp agrees. “But no amount of charming company can make flying over flat ruined landscapes for a full shift interesting.”

Bluestreak hums, leaning his forehead against Skywarp’s. “Sounds like it’s a good day for my surprise.”

“Surprise?” Skywarp grins like he’s just been handed all the energon goodies in the world. “You have a surprise for me?”

“I do. Have you fueled?” No amount of surrendering can make Bluestreak stop feeling responsible for Skywarp’s welfare at this point, especially when he knows they’re going into a scene.

Skywarp is his to take care of. And Bluestreak doesn’t take his responsibility lightly. Even when he’s getting ready to surrender it for an evening.

“Yeah, I’m good. And dead curious.” Skywarp’s hands are resting on Bluestreak’s hips, thumbs rubbing circles across the plating.

Bluestreak just smiles and takes his hand, tugging him towards the berth room.

Blast Off nods at them as they walk in. “Good evening, Skywarp.”

“Oh, you didn’t.” Skywarp is positively beaming, looking from Bluestreak to Blast Off and back, and Bluestreak is suddenly certain he’s made the right decision.

Anything that can make Skywarp smile like that is totally worth it.

“I did,” Bluestreak confirms, tilting his head up and kissing the corner of Skywarp’s mouth. “I’ll be right there with you today.”

Skywarp looks really excited at the prospect. His wings are almost vibrating, and his optics are darting between Bluestreak and Blast Off.

He’s clearly not nervous at all. In contrast, Bluestreak feels like he might just overheat from sheer nerves if they don’t get started soon.

Blast Off apparently realizes that as well. Bluestreak is more than a little relieved when he takes control of the situation.

“Skywarp, you know what to do,” he says firmly. “Bluestreak, kneel next to him, if you please.”

That part is easy. Bluestreak drops to his knees beside Skywarp, copying his position.

“That’s my good boys,” Blast Off says softly. He moves, positioning himself in front of them, one hand on each of their faces. “Now. The usual rules apply, for both of you this time. You will both call me ‘master’ or ‘sir’. You will use your safeword if you feel like you need it for any reason. We’re using the safeword you two have already established.” He pushes at Bluestreak’s chin, making him tilt his head slightly upwards. “Now, Bluestreak, since you haven’t submitted before, I will be more lenient with you than I am with Skywarp. But you know the rules by now, and I expect you to abide by them.”

“Yes, sir,” Bluestreak murmurs. He knows how to take commands. Even if he’s not at all sure he’s going to be able to surrender the way Skywarp does.

It suddenly hits him then, that even if he doesn’t manage, it’s okay. All he has to do is try. And as long as he tries, Blast Off will help him if he fails.

It’s a comforting thought.

“Good boy.” Blast Off’s thumb runs across Bluestreak’s cheek ridge. “Now. Get ready.”

Bluestreak doesn’t know quite how. But he takes a few steadying in-vents, tries to calm his frame. Ends up in something of the same mode he’d go into before battles, what the twins called his sniper-mode.

Maybe it’s not that different. Except he doesn’t need his targeting software now.

“Good,” Blast Off praises. He moves away, over to where the big toy chest is sitting.

For some reason, Bluestreak misses the warm touch on his face. He sneaks a glance at Skywarp – the seeker is that familiar calm, optics on the ground, a small smile lurking at the edge of his mouth.

“Now, boys. I have plans for both of you today. Skywarp, you will assist me first.”

“Yes, master,” Skywarp chirps, practically bouncing to his feet. Bluestreak is left kneeling alone. It makes him more than a little nervous, even in sniper-mode, but he doesn’t dare look up.

“Don’t fret, my lovely.” Blast Off’s fingers are back on Bluestreak’s chin, rubbing gently over a lower lip he only now realizes he’s biting. “I will take very good care of you. And afterwards, you will help me take very good care of Skywarp. Won’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Bluestreak replies. It’s instant, almost conditioned, and he realizes suddenly that it’s because he’s treating Blast Off’s words the way he would Prowl’s orders in battle. He’s expecting to be ordered, so he obeys, but there’s no relaxation in it, no surrender.

Maybe sniper-mode isn’t the right choice.

“You’re very tense,” Blast Off murmurs, running a hand over Bluestreak’s shoulder. “And not completely grounded in the moment, I think. We must remedy that. Skywarp, my darling, fetch the soft cloths and the oils.”

“Yes, master.”

Blast Off tilts Bluestreak’s chin up, making him look up at him again. “Don’t be afraid, my lovely.” The voice is almost a croon. “I think I know where this tension is coming from. We’re going to take care of you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Bluestreak manages, although he’s not entirely sure he does at this point.

The fingers tighten on his chin, almost to the point of pain. “Yes, _sir_.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Blast Off nods in satisfaction, and pulls something dark from his subspace. “Now, lovely, pay attention. This will cover your optics. You won’t be able to see. That will force you to increase the sensitivity in your doorwings, which will make Skywarp’s job that much easier. You will not be hurt, but the sensations may feel more intense than you’re used to. You can use your safeword if you need to, and I will be watching carefully.” The fingers on Bluestreak’s chin move up to cradle his cheek. “Do you understand why I’m telling you this?”

Bluestreak has to reboot his vocalizer. “To make me feel at ease. Sir.” Which is ironic, because his nerves have suddenly increased tenfold.

“Exactly. Hold still, lovely.”

Bluestreak sits as patiently as he can manage as Blast Off puts the blindfold on him. It really does block out everything, and after a moment he offlines his optics. They aren’t doing him much good anyway.

“That’s my good boy. Skywarp, if you please.”

Then there’s warmth at Bluestreak’s back, and very familiar fingers tease his hinges, and finally Bluestreak begins to relax a bit. Skywarp’s here, Skywarp’s _his_. Skywarp will take care of him.

“Don’t be afraid,” the seeker murmurs. “Master is good. And I’m going to make this feel so nice for you, you won’t even know, it’s going to be amazing.” His hands move from the hinges to the doorwings proper, and Bluestreak melts.

Skywarp’s wing touch is _exquisite_.

It’s hard to hold still as cool fluid is drizzled over his doorwings. Bluestreak pushes back into the touch, takes comfort from Skywarp’s seemingly endless flow of compliments and reassurance. Blast Off is always in front of him, caressing his face, stroking his shoulders or his chevron, and at some point in there Bluestreak stops expecting something bad to happen.

“Such a lovely boy,” Blast Off murmurs. “You’re being very good, Bluestreak. Does it feel good?”

“Yes, master.” It’s almost just a whisper, but Blast Off clearly hears it, if the touches to Bluestreak’s face are any indication.

“Good. Skywarp, that’s enough with the oils. It’s time to move on.”

The warmth vanishes from his back, and there’s clatter and the sound of someone rummaging through something. Blast Off’s fingers are strong and sure as they move over his shoulder, down his back and tug very gently at a doorwing.

A very relaxed and loose doorwing, apparently. Bluestreak purrs subvocally as Blast Off’s touch turns teasing.

“ _Very_ good, my lovely. Are you relaxed and content now?”

“Yes, master,” he replies, because he is, he’s all comfortable and warm and the oil Skywarp used has made every sensor in his wings tingle. “Very much.”

“Excellent. Then we’re truly ready. Ah, thank you, Skywarp.” The touch vanishes from his doorwing for a moment. “Sit down in front of your playmate, please.”

Blast Off waits until Skywarp’s in front of Bluestreak, hands tight on Bluestreak’s own. Then his purring voice starts up by Bluestreak’s right audial.

“You will hold still, my lovely. I’ll permit you the comforting touch of your playmate, should you need it, but you will not move. You may make noise, but not be disrespectful. And you will not be told what’s going on, so don’t bother asking. Are you ready?”

Skywarp’s grounding touch is enough to quell the nerves that threaten to rise up again. “Yes, master.”

“Good.”

There’s a moment of silence. Bluestreak tries not to tense in anticipation – he focuses on Skywarp’s warm hands and even vents, the warmth pooling between their frames.

Then, suddenly, something lays a line of fire across one of his doorwings.

It doesn’t hurt, not precisely. But it burns, tingles, making Bluestreak arch his back and keen at the sensation. It feels like his doorwings should be leaking energon, like every sensor should be screaming, but there’s no alerts on his HUD. Not even an integrity warning. Whatever Blast Off just did, it didn’t do him any harm at all.

The thought doesn’t stop him from crying out again as the other doorwing is hit. The lines set his doorwings ablaze, overeager sensors remembering the touch long after it’s over, reinforcing the burn, and it’s all Bluestreak can do to stay upright. Especially when yet another line of fire overlaps the first, at an angle, and his doorwing feels like it should be falling off in pieces, and yet it doesn’t.

“You’re so gorgeous, Blue,” someone whispers, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s Skywarp. “I can’t get past how hot you look.”

“Speak up, Skywarp, darling.” Another streak of molten heat crosses his second doorwing, and Bluestreak gasps loudly. “Let me hear what you say.”

“Master’s so good,” Skywarp continues, like he hadn’t been interrupted, but in a normal tone this time. “I love watching your reactions, babe, you’re so beautiful. I want to lick you from helm to pede.”

That has Bluestreak gasping again, in surprise this time – surprise, and sudden unrestrained arousal. “ _Lick_ me?” He’s suddenly thankful that Blast Off didn’t tell him to be quiet. As it is, he’s so distracted that a fifth strike almost has him keeling over into Skywarp’s lap, and only a hard squeeze on Skywarp’s hands keeps him upright.

“Of course lick you. You look good enough to eat.” There’s laughter in Skywarp’s voice. “You’re delectable, babe.”

The next strike doesn’t hit his wings. It’s angled towards his side, and grazes his port cover.

“ _Primus!_ ” He’s near leaving dents in Skywarp’s hands.

“Ah, that felt good, I take it?” Blast Off sounds smug.

Skywarp chuckles and squeezes Bluestreak’s hand. “He’s going to drive you to overload like this. I can’t wait to watch. You’re amazing when you overload.”

Overload? Just from those hot lines of sensation across his plating?

The next strike hits across his hip seam, and yeah, Skywarp totally has a point.

“More,” he gasps, and frag, that hadn’t been what he’d meant to say at all, but now that it’s said, he totally wants more. “Please, master, I need – can you –“

“Of course I can, my lovely,” Blast Off purrs, and whoa, now the hits come fast and strong, crisscrossing his doorwings and hip plating and touching on his covers, and it’s all Bluestreak can do to stay more or less upright. He can hear himself keening and moaning completely shamelessly, feel Skywarp’s rough hands holding him up, as the charge rises and rises and rises and –

 

“… babe?”

The voice is distant, hazy, _beloved_ , and Bluestreak claws his way towards it. It’s a struggle – his limbs don’t work right, his processor’s all muddy, but he’s not giving up. He knows that voice, and he wants to be where that voice is, to curl up in its offered shelter and never leave.

When he finally onlines his optics, blearily trying to focus through the fog and distance, Skywarp’s face is there, beaming down at him.

“Hey, babe. Guess that felt good, huh?”

Bluestreak blinks. He does feel good. Though right now, he can’t remember why.

Skywarp giggles. At him, not with him, Bluestreak’s fairly sure – though he can’t even be offended right now, he feels too good.

Besides, he’d be hard pressed to be offended by anything Skywarp does at this point.

“You overloaded so hard, it knocked you into a hard reboot.” Skywarp smirks down at him, and only now does Bluestreak realize he’s on his back on the floor of his own apartment, with Skywarp stretched out half next to him, half on top of him. His doorwings are aching pleasantly and the rest of him feels melted strutless. “Told you Blast Off is good with a cane.”

…oh. _Oh_. Right, that’s what they were doing.

“You’re right,” Bluestreak blurts, still tingling from remembered touches. “I’m totally beating you with a stick like that whenever you want.”

Skywarp laughs, loudly, throwing himself backward until he’s lying next to Bluestreak and staring up at the ceiling. “Good,” he chortles. “I was kind of hoping to get some of that tonight, but you got knocked out so hard I figured I’d have to take a rain check.”

“I take it that was enjoyable,” another voice says, and Blast Off comes into view, upside-down and smiling down at them. It takes Bluestreak a moment to realize that Blast Off only looks upside-down because he’s looking up at the shuttle-former from the floor.

His processor really got thrown for a loop. He wouldn’t mind repeating the experience.

Blast Off holds a pair of energon cubes down, offering them. “I hope it went a long way to conquer your fear of the switch.”

“That was awesome.” Bluestreak grins back and lifts a hand for the cube, half-surprised when his arm’s shaky and weak. “I had no idea it could feel like that.”

“You were beautiful.” Blast Off lowers himself to the floor over Bluestreak’s head with a groan. “I’m grateful you thought to set this up.”

“Not as grateful as me,” Skywarp singsongs. He scurries up until he’s in Blast Off’s lap, head against his torso. “Blue’s promised he’ll switch me. Whenever I want, he said.”

“Did he, now?” Blast Off sounds fond, and his hand on Skywarp’s head echoes the sentiment. “I’m happy for you, my darling.”

It looks kind of nice, being petted like that. Not that Bluestreak really has it in him to crawl into Blast Off’s lap like Skywarp did. He feels like one of those Earth treats Bumblebee convinced him to make for Halloween way back when - the one that Wheeljack said lacked structural integrity and that shook like an earthquake if someone looked at it too hard.

In short, he’s too drained to move.

Something must have been apparent in the way he looks at them, though, because Blast Off croons at him and leans forward, taking hold of Bluestreak’s shoulders and easily hoisting him up until he’s face to face with Skywarp. He doesn’t even spill the energon in Bluestreak’s cube.

“Hey babe.” Skywarp giggles. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Shush, now,” Blast Off scolds gently, cutting off Bluestreak’s involuntary snickering. “It’s cuddle time.” He puts one large arm around each of them and pulls them close, his optics dimming. Skywarp makes a happy noise and snuggles in, face squashed against Bluestreak’s bumper.

Bluestreak lies like that, reclined against Blast Off’s broad chest, soaking up the warmth and company and sipping his energon. Even seated up against the wall, Blast Off’s frame looks too big to fit in his berth room.

“Maybe next time we should do this at your place,” he murmurs, idly stroking Skywarp’s closest wing. “I bet you have more ceiling height.”

Skywarp turns his head just enough to reply. “If you want.”

“Do you think you’d feel safe there, Bluestreak?” Blast Off rumbles without brightening his optics. “I know you’ve needed to feel safe before.”

Bluestreak considers it. As much as his overload-muddled mind lets him, anyway. “I feel safe where Skywarp is. And I like TC. So it’ll be fine. Besides,” his hand moves to Skywarp’s helm, “maybe TC would feel less lonely if we were both there a lot more.”

“Maybe you should move in,” Skywarp jokes. Bluestreak can tell he’s not serious, but for some reason it triggers a serious response in him.

“Maybe I should,” he muses. “If you have the space. I wouldn’t mind coming home to you every day.”

That has Skywarp’s optics widening. He freezes and stares at Bluestreak. “Whuh?”

Apparently, Bluestreak’s processor isn’t the only one that’s muddled. Simple words, then. “Can I move in with you and Thundercracker?”

Dead silence.

Bluestreak suppresses a wince. Maybe it was a bit early to talk about that.

It takes him a moment before he dares look at Skywarp again. When he does… Well, his fear looks to be completely unfounded.

Skywarp looks like someone just handed him the moon on a gold platter. His optics are bright, hopeful, focused on Bluestreak like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Really? You want to?”

“Of course I want to,” Bluestreak replies softly, cradling Skywarp’s cheek. “I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and Skywarp’s reaction doesn’t disappoint. A squeal, and then Bluestreak is covered in affectionate seeker, getting stroked and petted and purred at. Above them, Blast Off chuckles indulgently.

Skywarp doesn’t say it back. That’s okay. There’s enough affection in every touch and kiss and purr and whispered promise to let Bluestreak know he’ll be loved for a lifetime.

He doesn’t need the words to know that.

 

Epilogue

 

“Hey,” Bluestreak calls to whoever is home. He barely spares the time to wipe the worst of the dust off before walking into the living room and dropping onto the couch. “Man, am I beat.”

“Long day?” Thundercracker asks sympathetically.

Bluestreak groans. “The next time Wheeljack decides that he needs ten of every size of gear ever manufactured, he can get himself a courier with actual loading capacity. I think I went back and forth between his workshop and Brawn’s warehouse five hundred times.”

There’s a light chuckle as Thundercracker prods his pede. “And I think you’re exaggerating.”

Bluestreak snorts a laugh. “Yeah, probably. It feels like I really did, though. Hey, you want to play a game?”

Thundercracker gives him a wry look. “I thought you were exhausted.”

“Not that exhausted.” Besides, it’s a lot more fun to play with Thundercracker than with Skywarp. His seeker cheats. “3D snakes and ladders?”

“I will never understand your fascination with Earth games,” Thundercracker says, but his tone is fond and he clears the low able willingly enough.

“It’s fun,” Bluestreak says, and that settles that.

They play in silence for a while. It’s nice – Bluestreak adores Skywarp with every fiber of his being, but he’s not good at being quiet. Thundercracker excels at it.

He chuckles lightly as his token slides from nearly the top of the three-dimensional grid to nearly the bottom, and Thundercracker smiles. “Guess that means I’m in the lead.”

“Oh, not for long,” Bluestreak replies loftily. “There’s a snake in your future too, I bet.”

“Maybe. Hey, Bluestreak?”

“Yeah?”

“…thanks.”

Bluestreak pauses, one hand hovering over the game. “Thanks? What for?”

“For making Skywarp happy.”

“Aww, TC.” He ignores the game for a moment in favor of hugging the blue seeker. “That’s not something you need to thank me for. I love your brother.”

TC returns the hug for a few seconds before letting go. This seeker’s not big on displays of affection, either. “I know you do. And he loves you back, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“I know.” Bluestreak smiles slightly as he sits back down. “I’ve felt it in his spark.”

Thundercracker smiles back, then pick up his die again like nothing happened.

Neither brother is good at expressing his emotions. At least Thundercracker’s not as lonely as he was.

The sound of thrusters heralds the arrival of Skywarp. As usual, he doesn’t bother entering on the ground floor – why would they have gotten an apartment on the top floor, one that’s open to the sky, only for him to walk all those steps? – so Bluestreak isn’t too surprised when a still flight-warm frame drapes itself over his back.

“Hey, babe,” Skywarp purrs. “Hi, TC.”

Thundercracker nods at him, then moves his token the last two squares on the grid. “Hey, Sky. I win.”

Bluestreak smiles at him. He knows very well that Thundercracker only finished that fast because even he can feel the heat radiating from Skywarp’s frame. And see the look in Skywarp’s optics, which Bluestreak knows by now will be intense and wanting.

Nothing riles Skywarp up like long-distance flights. His hands are wandering already.

Thundercracker stands up. “I’m going to head in to work for a bit,” he says, and there’s no trace of apology in his tone. Instead, he sounds amused. “I trust you’ve sent me the newest data already, Sky.”

“Yup,” Skywarp manages around Bluestreak’s throat cables. “’s in your inbox.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you two later.” Thundercracker leaves by way of the balcony as well, his thrusters a deeper thrum than Skywarp’s.

“See anything interesting today?” Bluestreak is fighting hard to keep his voice from becoming a moan.

“A hill that looked like Prowl when he’s mad,” Skywarp murmurs. “And a canyon that looks like it would be awesome to fly through. And remains of a settlement we haven’t charted yet.” He sucks a cable into his mouth for a moment before letting go with a loud pop. “But I don’t want to talk about work. I want your plug. And I want your spark.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Bluestreak gasps, leaning against Skywarp when that talented mouth moves away. “Berth?”

In answer, Skywarp picks him up like he weighs nothing. Like Skywarp’s lighter for carrying Bluestreak than he is alone.

Bluestreak wouldn’t have minded walking himself to the berth room. But even so, he can’t help feeling the same way.

It’s good, being home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of it, dear readers! Thanks for being patient with me while I floundered my way through what was really deep water for me :)


End file.
